


Child of War

by modern_mage



Series: Waiting for the Dawn [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3385100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modern_mage/pseuds/modern_mage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke brings an unexpected guest to Skyhold. The events of Dragon Age: Inquisition through the eyes of Amana Ashford, fourteen-year-old apostate. A story of love, loss, and finding family amongst strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Inquisition

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Dragon Age fanfic. I always thought it would be interesting to see the events of Inquisition through the eyes of a teenager versus a young/middle-aged adult. Enjoy!

Amana huffed loudly and drew another card. Her hand had been terrible the entire game, and even Wicked Grace couldn’t distract her from the thoughts running through her head. After so many years on the run, Amana had become adept at adapting to new situations, but this was something else entirely. 

“Sighing and continually making a fuss won’t make Hawke come back any sooner, Skitters,” Varric teased, using his somewhat affectionate nickname for the teenager. “If Hawke can handle a horde of raging Qunari, she can handle a simple scouting mission.” 

“Dark and damp. Cold and alone. I don’t want to feel that way again,” Cole interjected. “So many deaths. How many are my fault?” 

“Uh, right,” Amana coughed awkwardly. “The one with the hat can read my thoughts. Lovely.”

“Hawke is a honorable young woman,” Cassandra said with a hint of pride. “Do not fear abandonment.”

Amana had no response to what Cassandra had hoped would sound reassuring. The rest of the tavern was loud and boisterous, but the Inner Circle’s game of Wicked Grace had gone silent. Amana mentally said a quick prayer for strength to deal with the uncomfortable situation. She could feel everyone staring at her. 

“So, Amana,” Dorian started, trying to cut the tension, “where are you from? I fear none of us know very much about you.” 

Amana felt her face flush as she realized that they were all still staring at her. Should she be honest? In truth, she felt that the only person here that she could consider trusting would be Varric, and only him because Hawke always spoke so highly of him. Everyone else was a stranger. Or rather, she was the stranger invading on their game. 

Taking a deep breath, Amana decided that if Hawke trusted these misfits, she could try to trust them, too. “I am from the Free Marches, but I wouldn’t call it home. An apostate doesn’t have a home, just a place to hide.” 

“You are an apostate?” Cassandra exclaimed. “I had no idea that you were even a mage.” 

“Nor did I,” Dorian added. “And Cassandra, all mages are apostates, are they not?” 

Amana ran her fingers through her hair in a swift motion to try and distract herself from how Cassandra might react to the truth about her history. Something about her hair had always been calming to her, even though it had always been an utter mess before Hawke found her.

“I was an apostate before the rebellion. I would go into more detail, but it truly would only be a waste of time, considering that once Hawke returns, I’m leaving with her,” Amana said quickly. “But enough about me. Varric said that this is the Inner Circle? Are you all of it?” 

“Not at all,” Dorian replied. Amana felt grateful that he was not going to pursue more about her time as an apostate. “There are nine of us. Vivienne and Solas never join our games, and Sera, Iron Bull, and Blackwall went with the Inquisitor on a quick trip to the Hinterlands. Another rift opened there. I believe they left around this same time your Hawke did this morning.”

“Perhaps, if you stay long enough, you will be able to meet all of them. They are quite... interesting,” Cassandra said.

“I do think it would be fun to meet the Inquisitor. From all I have heard, she sounds amazing,” Amana remarked. 

“I don’t know, Skits. After spending so much time with Hawke, you may not find the Inquisitor to be all that impressive,” Varric chortled. “At the least, they have very different personalities.” 

“Based on your tales, Varric, Hawke sounds like quite the comedian,” Dorian said. “Evelyn, on the other hand, is, well, a little more abrasive.” 

“Abrasive?” Amana asked. Surely, the Herald of Andraste would be a gracious, loving woman. 

“The story truly is not mine to tell, but Evelyn had a rough time in the Ostwick circle,” Varric explained briefly. 

“I understand completely,” Amana said with the nod of the head. “Being from the Kirkwall circle myself, I personally know the torture that mages suffer at the hands of templars.” She said the word bitterly, as if it was poison.

“Kirkwall?” Cassandra asked excitedly. “Were you there when…?” 

“I am trying to put my past behind me. It was never pleasant, and I would prefer not to speak of it. But no, I had left the circle before the Chantry exploded.” 

“I wonder if Cullen knew her,” Cassandra muttered quietly, thinking aloud to herself. “Varric, do you recognize Amana?” 

“Seeker, she’s fourteen. If she left the Circle before the rebellion, I am pretty sure that I would not be able to recognize her. And it’s not like we spent that much time in the Gallows, especially with Anders around all the time,” Varric replied earnestly. 

“I am going to retrieve our commander,” Cassandra said decisively, standing from her chair. “I wish to know if he recognizes our guest.”

Amana groaned outwardly. “I just got here this morning. Introductions to all of the wonderful members of the Inquisition can wait.”

“You mean to say that you have not met anyone else yet?” Cassandra asked with surprise etched across her face. “Come with me, Amana. I shall introduce you to our ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet and our spymaster, Leliana, as well. Oh! You probably have not yet met Solas or Vivienne. They are also mages. I am sure they will be pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

“Don’t harass the poor child,” Varric scolded. “It took me long enough to convince her to play with us. Save the introductions until the Inquisitor’s return.” 

“Fine, Varric. You are her current guardian, after all,” Cassandra scoffed. “I cannot understand why Hawke would entrust Amana to you, when there are much more capable people present.” 

Dorian poorly attempted to stifle a laugh. Cole merely sat there, observing the situation. There was hurt here, and he could not figure out how to help it, quite yet. 

Cassandra paced back and forth at the table, her cheeks turning red. “How could Hawke not have informed the Inquisition, or even Varric that she has a protégé? Why, in our midst, we could have another hero, another Champion. You could even be the next Inquisitor, Amana! Why would Hawke keep you a secret?” 

At this point, Dorian did not even try to contain his laughter. It rang out loud and clear throughout the entire tavern. Varric joined in, laughing at Cassandra, whom as usual, had begun idolizing anything that had to do with Hawke. 

“Protégé? While I hate to burst your bubble, Cassandra, I am no protégé. Just a talented tagalong,” Amana tried to explain. “But, by all means, make me sound more impressive than I actually am as much as you like.”

“And you!” Cassandra exclaimed, pointing at Varric. “You knew about where Hawke was all this time, didn’t you? Hawke could have been our Inquisitor! She could have saved the Divine! This is all your fault!”

“How much have you had to drink, Cassandra?” Dorian asked in between his fits of laughter. “You are acting more ridiculous than usual.” 

“I think I’m going to leave before it’s too late for me to do so,” Amana whispered to Varric quietly in hopes that Cassandra would not hear. “I’ll be around.” Perhaps.

Amana stood up from her stool and quickly left the tavern. Varric’s nickname for her did make sense. She was one who was always in a hurry to leave, a characteristic that had been developed in her from so many years running from templars, demons, and Maker knows what else. 

Skyhold was certainly an astounding fortress, worthy of holding such a powerful organization such as the Inquisition. Amana loved how a large portion of it was open air. It did not feel as confining as it could be. And with so many people bustling around, doing so many different tasks, it felt livelier than the circle, even though she had not been there as long as she could have been. 

Truly, her only complaint was the cold. While Skyhold was easily defensible nestled in the Frostback Mountains, it did not make for a warm location. She was surprised that there wasn’t more snow that covered the courtyard. Having spent her entire life in the Free Marches with its temperate climate, her time in the South had been overall colder. It was not a welcome change. 

Amana continued to explore. She discovered the quartermaster and the armory quickly. While it was important for the Inquisition to have both, they did little to foster any interest in her. She was more interested in how no one had stopped her and asked about her. After all, she wasn’t wearing the clothes of a scout or a solider, and she appeared to have no real purpose in her wanderings. Hopefully, it was simply her small size and age that were causing people to overlook her. It would be a shame if an assassin could move through Skyhold as easily as she could.

Amana decided to avoid the dungeons, as the thought of ever being in one made her uneasy. She also felt that she should avoid the main hall, as to that would be where all of the nobles and other important people would be. Venturing down the steps, she came across the infirmary. 

And was mortally horrified. 

So many people lay dying on the ground. There were no healers present, and only one surgeon attended to their wounds. Had this been from the attack on Haven? Were so many still injured from that awful event? Or was this usual, for so many to lay sick and dying without the healing touch of magic?

While Amana was more than capable of offensive spells, she was by all means, a healer. She had saved herself from death an endless amount of times when she had been all alone. When Hawke and Anders found her, she had been able to learn even more healing magic from easily the greatest healer in all of Thedas. 

She could help. She could save lives. 

Kneeling down at the first soldier she saw, she carefully examined him for his injuries. She soon discovered that he had been wounded in the stomach, from what appeared to be the work of a demon. She recognized their claws with ease. After all, how many times had she almost died from the strike of one? More than she could count, that was for sure.

Channeling her mana, Amana began to work her magic. Blue swirled around her fingers as she willed herself to save this man from death. His wound had been deep, but it would be not too much trouble for her to heal it. 

Sweat rolled down her brow as she finished the spell. Years of practicing the magic allowed her to do it longer than most of any of the other mages she knew, but it was still more straining than a fireball or bolt of lightning.

“Thank you,” the man whispered quietly. “I have a wife. I was afraid that I was never going to see her again, but… thank you.”

“It was no trouble,” Amana smiled sweetly. “Take it easy for a little while. The wound itself is healed, but your body will need a bit more time to recover.” 

Amana stood up and dusted off her knees. She would take a moment’s rest and then assist the next patient to the best of her ability. 

“Just what do you think you are doing?” a woman approaching Amana asked angrily. “Who gave you permission to heal that man?” 

“Um, no one?” Amana replied, confused as to why the woman would be so angry. She had saved his life, had she not?

“This is my infirmary. These are my patients. Here, we use science, not magic to heal.”

Amana was shocked. Any science she had ever seen had ultimately killed the patient, not saved them. Why would the Inquisitor allow her soldiers to be treated with not the best care? 

“That man was going to die. I saved his life,” Amana snapped. “And I do not see any other healers around. Do you honestly think you will be able to help all of these people?” 

“That does not matter. What matters is that you healed a patient without my permission. You had no right!” 

“I had no right to prevent someone from dying? Well, excuse me for doing the right thing!” Amana yelled. “If you were any good at your job, you would realize that you need help and that science is not always the best answer!” 

“Ah, what seems to be the trouble here?” a cool voice asked. “Surely, a place of healing should not be the location of a screaming match.”

Amana spun around to address the voice and was surprised to see a taller than normal, bald headed elf standing there. He had an air of authority about him that quickly silenced any words Amana had to say. 

“This child used magic to heal one of my patients,” the woman said. “I did not give her permission.”

“And what does the young mage have to say to these accusations?” the elf questioned, continuing to use that calm, cool voice. 

“The man was going to die. I knew I could help, so I did,” Amana replied briefly. “I see no issue in helping the hurt, even if I do not technically have the right to engage.”

“It would seem to me,” the elf said, turning to the other woman, “that this girl has done no harm and has only helped you in your endeavor. I would not be so harsh with her.”

The woman gritted her teeth. “As you wish, Master Solas. If you had not saved our Herald after Haven, I would not take your words to heart. The child may continue to help if she proves to be useful.” 

“Great! Now run along, and do your work. I’ll do mine.” 

The woman scoffed and turned on her heel, returning to the patient she had been previously helping. 

“Do not fan a fire unless you wish to be burned, little one,” Solas said gently. “You would not want her scorn if you failed to heal.”

“I suppose you are right,” Amana sighed. “I was just so surprised to see so many injured and so few helping. I lost control of myself.”

“Understandable. You have been on a long journey and have had little time to rest. Unfortunately, I fear with all of the chaos, very few of us have had sufficient time to do so.”

“You’re part of the Inner Circle, right?” Amana asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She had heard the woman call the elf Solas, which could only mean this was the same mage that Cassandra had been urging for her to meet.

“I suppose that would be the case,” Solas chuckled lightly. “However, I am afraid that I know little of who you are.”

“That seems to be a common topic of discussion today,” Amana replied. 

“Oh? How so?” 

“I arrived with Hawke here earlier today. She had to leave immediately to go to Crestwood, but she left me here. Cassandra happened to find out that I am a mage, and she just went insane. She thinks that I am going to be the next hero or something.”

“Considering you just saved a man’s life, you are a hero in some aspects. But I need not know your entire life story. Your name will suffice.”

“Oh, I suppose that would actually be something useful to know. I’m Amana. Amana Ashford. Pleased to meet you, Solas,” Amana said perkily, glad that she was not going to have to dodge questions about her past.

“The pleasure is mine,” Solas responded kindly. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend, and I am sure that there are others that you would like to help.”

“Of course.” 

Solas strolled away and Amana noted the peculiar way of how he walked. He placed one foot in front of the other, as one would expect an animal to do. Amana shrugged and decided that she was probably just overanalyzing it. Solas had been the most gracious person she had met here yet; she had no right to scrutinize him.

Turning to the next patient, Amana was surprised at how young he was. The previous soldier had been easily into his thirties, but this one couldn’t be more than sixteen. How had someone so young become involved in this mess? Amana then realized that she was one to talk, considering that she was probably even younger than him. The world was falling apart. Anyone who cared even the slightest bit would want to help to put it back together. 

Time flew as Amana found herself healing person after person. Some people simply needed a bone to be mended or a burn to be cooled. Others were in a much worst state that required her to use all of her willpower. By the time there were few who needed her help left; Amana was too exhausted to even cast the simplest of spells. 

Quickly telling the woman that she had done all she could for that day, she left the infirmary to find a place to sleep. She thought about finding Varric and asking him, but there was a chance that Cassandra would still be with him, and the last thing Amana wanted was to speak with her. Cassandra seemed like that she could be a nice person, but her over eagerness and the fact that she was once a Seeker was repelling to Amana. 

Amana decided that she had slept outdoors plenty enough that finding a bed would most likely be more trouble than what it was worth. If she could find a nice patch of grass or a stack of hay, that would be more than enough to suit her needs. 

Seeing that there was a stable nearby, Amana figured that that would be her best bet at finding hay. Amana casually headed in that direction. If there wasn’t a sufficient amount of hay, the grass did look particularly green over there. 

Climbing up the stairs in the stable, she found that someone, presumably the horse master, was occupying that space. Amana figured that it would be best to find somewhere else to sleep, unless she wanted to have an awkward conversation in the morning. And surprisingly, there were few significant piles of hay and no horses. Some stable.

A cozy patch of grass did seem to be Amana’s best bet at the moment. Seeing that most of Skyhold had retired for the evening, it would be a small matter to simply curl up on the ground. People could think whatever they wanted about her, and if anyone asked her directly, she would blame it on the lack of hospitality. 

It didn’t bother her if she had a bed or not. In fact, Amana could not remember the last time she had actually slept in a real bed. In the circle, she slept on the floor because all of the beds were taken. On the run, she slept on the ground or in a tree. With Hawke and Anders, she slept in a bedroll, and she had considered that a luxury. 

Why did she leave her bedroll with Anders again? Hawke had insisted that there would be a place for the two of them to sleep at Skyhold, so Amana needn’t carry the extra weight. Anders had agreed, and he had jokingly promised to take good care of it until the three of them were reunited. 

Amana felt particularly grateful that she hadn’t accidentally mentioned Anders to Cassandra or anyone else earlier. That would have created quite the stir. The fact that he was still alive would be enough to bother most people. The fact that Hawke still loved him would send them over the edge. After all, he had “murdered hundreds of innocents.” As if the Chantry did not. How many innocent mages were taken away from their families and tortured by templars? How many innocent mages were killed or made tranquil by those who claimed to be protecting them? 

Amana knew that she would have to keep her opinions to herself. Supporting the rebelling mages wholeheartedly would be bad enough. Supporting Anders and his actions would be worse. 

Curling herself into a ball, Amana drifted off into a fairly peaceful sleep. Most of the time, her sleep was fitful and full of nightmares. Perhaps it was the fact that she was surrounded by strong walls or the fact that she was so exhausted, but for the first time in years, Amana slept well. 

It was the armored footsteps that woke her. 

From years after hiding from templars, Amana could recognize the sound of their steps instantly. One was definitely approaching now. 

This was the Inquisition. Surely, mages would not be purged here. After all, the Inquisitor had offered a full alliance with the mage rebellion. She should be safe here. 

As the footsteps came closer, Amana prepared herself for a fight. She had killed enough templars before to know what spells tripped them up, which ones made them scared. It would be easy to get rid of one more. 

“Who’s there?” the armored man called. “Unless you pose as a threat, I mean you no harm.”

Amana scoffed aloud. “And how would you know if I posed as a threat?” she shot back. 

“Maker’s breath, it’s the middle of the night. I was patrolling the grounds, and I saw a strange form in the darkness. As Commander of the Inquisition, I have a right to be concerned.” 

With a swoosh of her hand, Amana conjured a small flame to be able to see the man in the darkness. “There, that’s better. As you can see, I’m fourteen. I doubt I pose any real threat to you or the Inquisition. I was sleeping, I heard someone coming, and I became concerned. Now that that’s settled, how’s my favorite Knight-Captain?”

“I beg your pardon?” Cullen asked. “Do I know you?”

“Knight-Captain! I am deeply offended,” Amana said sarcastically. She could put Cullen on the defensive with her words. “Don’t you remember the little eight year old girl that would stick out her tongue and call you ‘Captain Noodle Head’ ever time she saw you?” 

“And then mysteriously disappeared with her siblings one night,” Cullen said grimly. “Believe me, I remember.” 

“I wouldn’t call it disappearing so much as escaping,” Amana quipped. 

“It’s for the best that you all escaped, considering how Meredith went mad,” Cullen sighed. “Although, after the three of you escaped, things became worse for the mages in Kirkwall. Meredith was furious that an eight year old and two teenagers had been allowed to escape.” 

“I can imagine,” Amana replied. “But she was crazy even before all of that mess with the red lyrium.” 

“Can’t really argue with that. So what brings you to the Inquisition?” Cullen asked curiously. “You are one of the last people I ever expected to see again.” 

“I must say, I never expected I’d see you again either. If you don’t mind me saying, you were kinda a jerk.” 

“I am well aware of that.” Cullen grimaced. “At least I wasn’t the one who suggested your sister be made tranquil.” 

“If you were, do you honestly think that you would still be breathing right now?” Amana’s face was deadpan. 

“I thought you were the one who said that you are no real threat to me,” Cullen rebuked. Then, he laughed. “It’s nice to know that some people never change.” 

“What do you mean, Captain?” Amana asked. Honestly, she was slightly hurt that Cullen hadn’t taken her threat seriously. 

“You’re still the spitfire you were back in the circle. I’m glad all of the demons falling out of the sky hasn’t changed that.”

“To be honest, I am actually surprised that you remember me. There were an awful amount of mages in the Gallows,” Amana said uneasily. This was a completely different Cullen. The Cullen she knew would have first accused her of blood magic and then declared she wasn’t a human being. It was an unexpected change.

“They told us to watch you closely because both of your siblings were powerful for their ages, and your magic had surfaced earlier than theirs. Plus, you did constantly call me ‘Captain Noodle Head,’ and there is the fact that you escaped,” Cullen said sheepishly. “But back to the original question: why are you here?”

“It’s a long story, but the short version is that I met Hawke after the uprising, and when Varric contacted her, telling her to come to the Inquisition, I came with her. I’m just waiting for Hawke to get back.” 

“I did hear that the Champion was here briefly. I’m glad I missed her. We were acquainted in Kirkwall, and she did have the tendency to tease me,” Cullen said. 

“At least your hair has gotten better,” Amana laughed. “I’m sure that would take out half her jokes. But then again, there is the monstrosity of a cloak you are wearing.” 

“Evelyn likes it,” Cullen muttered quietly to himself. 

“Oh, you and the Inquisitor? My, my, Hawke definitely will have to tease you when she returns from Crestwood,” Amana teased. “That is, if I don’t do it sufficiently enough for her.”

“Maker’s breath, don’t you have something better to be doing?” Cullen groaned. 

“Well, Captain, it’s the middle of the night, and you are the one who disturbed my slumber,” Amana said. 

“And just why were you sleeping outside?” 

“Because I don’t have a bed here, and if I tried looking for one, there’s a chance I would have to deal with Cassandra, and I am not doing that again anytime soon.”

“Cassandra is not that bad,” Cullen replied. Amana stared him down, eyes narrowing. “Okay, maybe she is. Sometimes, not always.”

“Good ex-templar,” Amana said cheekily. 

“I can show you to a room that you can stay in while you are here,” Cullen offered. “Anything to get you away from me.”

“Go ahead,” Amana said. “But no promises that I’ll stay in it. I haven’t slept in a bed for years.” 

“I am not surprised. At all,” Cullen answered. “You don’t seem the type.”

“You know, Captain, I am surprised at how we seem to be on such friendly terms. Our interactions in Kirkwall were brief and unpleasant,” Amana chirped. Cullen rolled his eyes and took off walking in a direction that Amana assumed had bedrooms in it. Amana extinguished her flame, now that they were leaving her small corner and heading to a better lit area.

“I hope you know if you are ever around me when I am with my soldiers, you are going to have to address me as Commander, not ‘Captain,’” Cullen said. “It would make me look bad, having a little girl call me that.”

“Little? Considering my adeptness at fighting, I feel that should not apply to me,” Amana replied. 

“Considering I have not seen you fight, I cannot know if that is a true statement. And I meant it quite literally. You’re barely taller than Varric.”

“I blame my stunted growth on malnutrition. Berries and the occasional nug do not make for a hearty meal.”

“Who eats nug?” Cullen scoffed. “And don’t tell Leliana that. She’d have you killed.”

“Dutifully noted, Captain. But you eat nug when you don’t feel like risking killing something that could kill you.”

She continued to follow Cullen into the Main Hall. It was quiet and empty, and Amana hoped they wouldn’t wake anyone. 

“There are two rooms that I know of that are available,” Cullen whispered. “There’s one overlooking the garden, and there’s a spare room by the Inquisitor’s quarters.”

“I would hate to invade the Inquisitor’s personal space,” Amana whispered back. “The one by the gardens.”

“Of course.”

Cullen led her to the room. It was smaller than what Amana had anticipated, but considering she had been found sleeping outside, it was better than anything she could have expected. 

“If you need anything, just ask our ambassador, Josephine. Not in the middle of the night, though,” Cullen said. 

“Right. Makes sense.”  
Cullen nodded his head and exited the room, softly closing the door behind him. Amana walked over to the perfectly made bed. She felt as if it would be a crime to undo the bedding, but there would be no point on simply sleeping on top of the covers. She carefully peeled them back and slid off her worn boots. She felt uncomfortable taking off her leather, rogue-like armor in case anyone came in before she woke up, and it wasn’t like she was in the habit of wearing pajamas when sleeping. 

She climbed into the bed, but no matter how she moved, she couldn’t make herself comfortable. It was too soft, too fluffy. 

An apostate doesn’t have a home, just a place to hide, she reminded herself. That advice had kept her alive for years; there was no need to abandon it now. She wasn’t going to be at Skyhold for long, anyhow. There was no point in becoming comfortable here. 

Amana fell asleep, curled into a ball on the floor of the small, exquisite room. This time, though, she couldn’t drift off as she had done before. Her brief interaction with the former knight-captain was enough to have her mind awake enough that it wouldn’t fall asleep. 

She passed her time by braiding her long, auburn hair and then unbraiding it. Most of the time, she allowed her hair to be free of any constricting braid. If anyone tried to grab her hair during a fight, it would just make it easier for her to find and roast him or her alive. Or freeze them. Or electrocute them. Really, it just depended on how she was feeling at the time. 

Morning came after hours of idleness, and Amana decided to return to the infirmary to see if there was anyone else that needed healing. She must have healed more people than she thought she had yesterday because there was only one person that she could really help. She quickly attended to her wounds and set off to see if they served breakfast in this place. And if they didn’t, she could just as easy go to the kitchen and secure some for herself. 

As she walked through the hall, looking for any signs of food, she couldn’t help but hear some of the conversations the dreaded nobles were having. 

It is quite incredible how all of the wounded were healed yesterday.  
I heard that it was a young mage girl that arrived with the Champion yesterday.  
The Champion? Do not be ridiculous. No one has heard from the Champion in years. 

Amana smiled to herself. Hawke could only be found when she wanted to be found. It was a very helpful trick, especially when running from templars. 

“Skits!”

Amana turned and saw Varric sitting in front of the fireplace. Luckily, it seemed that Cassandra was nowhere in sight. While she still hadn’t quite taken a liking to Varric yet, he was definitely better than the Seeker. 

“Is there a place where they serve breakfast or am I going to have to go to the kitchen if I want to get something to eat?” Amana asked. The dwarf leaned back in his chair, clearly at ease. 

“Well, somebody has settled in quite nicely,” he commented. “It would have been nice if she informed me where she disappeared to.”

Amana rolled her eyes and pulled up a chair across from the dwarf. Seeing that there was a freshly baked roll sitting in front of him, she snatched it before he had the time to react. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, but Amana already had half of it in her mouth. She smiled at him as she continued to eat it. It was delicious and way better than anything Anders had cooked up when they were together. 

She finished the roll and sighed with satisfaction. “I still have a chance at growing. You, on the other hand, well, let’s just hope you had no aspirations of being tall enough to ride a stallion.”

“It’s nice to see that you still aren’t concerned about Hawke,” Varric said. “There is enough angst in Skyhold without a teenager adding to it.”

“What sort of angst?” Amana asked, while at the same time wondering where another one of those rolls might be. 

“Oh, you won’t be here long. No point in wasting my breath,” Varric replied smugly. “Unless someone wants to tell me exactly how someone of such a young age escapes Thedas’ best circle so easily.”

Varric’s eyes twinkled at her, the smug expression on his face becoming even smugger. He overestimated her interest in the drama of Skyhold. While it would be interesting, she wasn’t about to go and tell her life story to someone, who for the most part, was a stranger. She only felt okay talking to Cullen about only the slightest of details because he knew her brother and sister. He knew they escaped the circle. Plus, it was no small secret that Varric loved a good story. She didn’t want hers to become his next fireside tale. 

“You know, I think that I am going to look for more of those delicious rolls,” Amana said absentmindedly. She stood from the table and began to stroll away. She had no intention to speak about what happened to anyone, but she did actually have the intention of finding more rolls. The kitchen would be a good place to start looking. 

“Skits, Amana, wait,” Varric called out to her. “Come back. There is something I need to say.” 

Amana sighed and turned on her heel, walking back to the storyteller. “And what might that be?”

“Hawke told me to keep an eye out for you and keep you safe. I can’t just let you roam around Skyhold like you own the place,” Varric said. “If something happened to you, I’d hate to have to explain it to Hawke. She’s lost so much already. I’d hate for her to lose you, too.” 

Amana appreciated his honesty. He wasn’t concerned about her. He was concerned about disappointing Hawke. She just happened to be the young mage that Hawke had told him to protect. He would do it for his friend, not because he thought she needed protected. 

“Compared to some places I’ve been, this place is no big deal. I can handle myself in the safest place in all of Thedas,” Amana replied. 

“For one thing, it would be nice to have some sort of idea where you are in the giant monster of a castle. And for another, it’s not in Skyhold that I am too terribly concerned about. Hawke told me that you are, well skittish, Skitters. You leave when you feel like it. I-just don’t leave Skyhold,” Varric clarified. “I promise I’ll get off your back about it all. I just needed to say that.”

“Do you need a ladder?” 

“What?” 

“Can I get you a ladder so you can get off my back?” Amana quipped. She enjoyed watching the confusion spread across Varric’s face. 

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s just something the Hero of Ferelden says. I met her, spent a week or two in her Keep. It was nice.” 

“You just know all the important people, don’t you?” Varric decided. 

“Yup. That’s why I came to Skyhold. I got to check the Inquisitor off my list of important people to meet. After her, I’m heading straight to the Winter Palace to meet the Empress.”

“Considering the Inquisition is going to have to go meet her at some point, it may be possible for you to actually do that.” 

“If I stay long enough to do that.” 

“I suppose so, Skits. I suppose so,” Varric muttered. “I’m sure you have some agenda planned. Don’t let me stop you.”

But Amana was already gone.


	2. The Good Tevinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amana's fashion is criticized.

For a giant fortress, Skyhold was boring. After gorging herself on more of those heavenly rolls, Amana found that there was nothing of any substance to do. Perhaps, if she actually had a position in the Inquisition, she would have more things to take care of. Once all of the wounded had been healed, her job as interim healer was basically useless. Maker willing, she would never have to see that many injured in one place again. 

After walking the battlements, once, twice, _three stinking times _, Amana was out of options if the wanted to avoid the pesky nobles, Cassandra, Varric, Dorian, and… what was his name? The one with the hat? She supposed it didn’t matter.__

It could be that Amana was a teenager or it could be that most people she met tried to kill her, but either way, she could barely tolerate anyone. Her brother, sister, Hawke, and Anders had been the few exceptions. When she had briefly met Hawke’s brother, Carver, and Aveline, the guard captain friend from Kirkwall, she had hardly been able to keep herself from losing her mind. Hawke had scolded her after that encounter, but it didn’t matter to her. Carver was either whiny or completely full of himself, and Aveline had such a strong sense of duty that it made Amana want to throw up. 

At least Solas seemed to be someone who knew boundaries. He settled a dispute, answered a question, asked for her name, and left. It was a short and sweet interaction. 

She was surprised that she had remained friendly with Cullen for so long. He did used to be a templar after all, and Amana had lost track of how many of those she had been forced to kill long ago. But something about him had changed, and maybe, just maybe, Amana could give him a second chance. 

Maybe. 

Deciding to just sit down on the ruined part of the battlements, knowing that it was unlikely anyone would find her, Amana laughed in spite of herself. She had just had a whole rant in her head about how she hated everyone, and yet, she healed dozens of wounded soldiers yesterday. Like with Solas, she supposed that those were short, sweet interactions and decided not to waste her time contemplating her motives or character. She was who she was. If she wanted to be a sarcastic jerk, yet still help people, so be it. 

That sounded surprisingly familiar. 

Perhaps that was why she got along with Hawke and Anders so well. Hawke couldn’t go five minutes without making some form of a degrading joke that expressed how fed up she was with everyone and everything and _blood magic, why is it always blood magic?_

Amana shuttered at the memory. Somehow, her, Hawke, and Anders had managed to walk directly into the middle of some giant blood ritual while casually trying to avoid some templars and some of Sebastian’s men. The mages had turned to the group immediately, ready to cast some of their most powerful spells. Hawke had just sighed, told them that she was, yes, the Champion of Kirkwall, and yes, she would kill them all if they attacked. Of course, they ignored her warning and within a minute or two, there were about ten mages lying dead on the ground. 

_“And that makes what? About thirteen hundred for you, eight hundred for me?” Anders said uneasily, trying to keep his tone light. Hawke hated situations like this. Both of them did. “I sure miss that scoreboard Varric kept in the Hanged Man. Made it much easier to keep track.”_

_“Blood magic. Why is it always blood magic?” Hawke said, examining the poor body of a young girl that had been victim to the ritual. “If we had been here sooner, we could have helped her.”_

_Anders wrapped Hawke in his arms, and Amana turned away to give them a moment. She was still new and didn’t want to feel like an intruder._

_“Just think of Fenyriel or that little elven girl. You helped them. You’ve helped more in a handful of years than most people do in their entire life.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“Anytime, Marian.” ___

__Amana wasn’t entirely sure why that memory stuck out in her mind so clearly. It definitely wasn’t the fondest. It was one of the first times she has seen Hawke and Anders fight, practically moving as one. Years of time together had developed that close bond, and Amana had hoped that she wouldn’t do something to mess it up._ _

__It was one of the only times she had seen Hawke upset._ _

__Hawke was strong, courageous. She laughed in the face of danger, and she helped those that she could, whatever the cost. Perhaps Cassandra hadn’t been too far off when she had called Hawke an “honorable young woman.”_ _

__Anders had some of the same admirable qualities as Hawke, no matter how many times he tried to sell himself short. He did his best to help people, and while his sense of humor was drier, he could make any situation better with a quick joke. At least, that was the Anders she knew. The minstrels sang of a monster, and maybe that was how he was back in Kirkwall. But like Cullen, maybe something had changed once he left that awful city._ _

__“That’s strange. I would think that most sane people would avoid the crumbling wall.”_ _

__Amana groaned and turned to see the mustached mage looking down at her. She supposed that it was too much to ask to avoid all of the eccentric members of Inner Circle forever. This was their current home, after all._ _

__“I believe, my good man, that that was the point,” Amana huffed._ _

__“All of that huffing and puffing cannot be good for your health,” Dorian jested. “But if you were trying to hide away from all of the hustle and bustle of Skyhold, I do apologize.”_ _

__“So you’ll be going, then?” Amana asked with just the slightest amount of hope in her voice. While it was awfully boring doing nothing, she imagined anything that Dorian could dream up would be much, much worse._ _

__“After spending so much time trying to find the illusive mage? Perish the thought! You, my friend, are coming with me. Something must be done about this hideous outfit you chose to wear.”_ _

__“You know, insulting my sense of fashion is not the best way to convince me to leave my lovely view here,” Amana replied._ _

__“Yes, yes, I’m sure your outfit is the latest style for apostates everywhere, but I will not be able to sleep at night if this matter is not resolved,” Dorian urged sarcastically. “Although, maybe the sight of you would be enough to kill the Elder One on sight. Would save us a lot of trouble.”_ _

__“Low blow,” Amana said dryly. She crossed her arms and stared out into the mountains. She would not give Dorian the satisfaction of being genuinely upset or the satisfaction of giving into his wishes._ _

__“You know, I could always go get the Seeker…”_ _

__Amana had never stood up as quickly as she did just then in her entire life. “Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “You win!”_ _

__“Fabulous! We’ll make you the envy of all of the other girls!” Dorian exclaimed. “Now come with me, Amana dear, and oh, this is going to be great fun!”_ _

__“Andraste preserve me,” Amana muttered under her breath. “Of course!”_ _

__Dorian insisted on helping Amana climb up from the pile of rubble, and truly not in the mood to argue anymore with the persistent mage, Amana obliged. It wasn’t like she could climb trees without branches or anything. She absolutely needed help climbing five feet on staggered rocks._ _

__“Just think, if it hadn’t been for my timely arrival, you would have been trapped with nowhere to go, left to remain forever on this decrepit wall!” Dorian said dramatically._ _

__“Seems like a better fate than this,” Amana sighed as she followed the saucy mage to the rotunda. “Having a stranger criticize my fashion choices does not exactly sound pleasant.”_ _

__“Amana, my dear, I am hurt! I thought we were the best of friends,” Dorian replied without missing a beat. Nothing seemed to faze him, Amana noted. Perhaps she would be more successful in driving him away if she gave him nothing to go off of._ _

__“Oh my dear Dorian, I am ever so sorry. Please accept my humble apology. I look forward to this endeavor with you,” Amana said, her tone as serious as it has ever been._ _

__“Apology accepted, dear girl.”_ _

__While Solas walked with the authority of a god and Cassandra walked as if she would stab anyone who got in her way, Dorian had an easy, relaxed stride. But even with him walking so purposelessly, Amana had to walk quickly to keep up with him. She found herself grateful that no one she had seen here yet had been as swift and tall as Anders and Hawke. By the end of the day, she found herself exhausted from keeping up with the two of them._ _

__“Dorian,” Solas greeted stoically as the two walked towards the stairs. It appeared as if Solas had been studying hard. Multiple books were open, and there was page after page of notes._ _

__“Solas,” Dorian greeted back, matching the tone. Amana could feel the tension in the room and wondered what had happened between them._ _

__“Hello, little one,” Solas said, turning towards Amana. He sounded friendlier than he had been towards Dorian, but it was clear that the greeting was only because he found it obligatory._ _

__“Have you learned anything interesting?” Amana asked, gesturing towards his desk. “You seem to have been busy.”_ _

__Solas’ face lit up at the question, but he quickly composed himself. “I have found information that I do hope will be beneficial to the Inquisitor upon her arrival back at Skyhold. With old elven artifacts activated, it may be possible to predict the appearance of rifts before they occur.”_ _

__“Could they be prevented from opening?” Amana asked. Solas seemed to enjoy answering questions. She could easily use him to stall spending more time with Dorian._ _

__“I am not sure, but I fear that the Veil may be too weak for it to be possible. However, if the Veil was removed entirely…”_ _

__“Amana dear, we haven’t all day,” Dorian called from the floor above._ _

__“We can speak later, if you wish,” Solas said. “I am always happy to share my knowledge with others.”_ _

__Amana nodded her head and begrudgingly went up the stairs. Upon arriving, she looked down at the floor below and saw that Solas had already returned to his work. Meanwhile, Dorian was rummaging through a bookshelf._ _

__“I just _know _that it must be around here somewhere,” he said under his breath. A few unfortunate books were tossed over his shoulder. “One day, I simply must organize these better.”_ _ __

__“How exactly is a book going to enhance my wardrobe? Last time I checked, that required cloth,” Amana quipped. She picked up the few books on the floor. “And you really should take better care of these.”_ _

__Amana looked through the books. Nothing in particular caught her interest. All of them were about magical theory or Tevinter history. Theory barely mattered to her, and all she knew about Tevinter was that it was bad._ _

__“Why do you have so many books on Tevinter?” Amana asked._ _

__“I’m from Tevinter,” came the short reply. Dorian didn’t even bother to look away from the books._ _

__“Well, that explains a lot,” Amana teased. “No one likes a Tevinter.”_ _

__“Let’s not speak of it now, shall we?” Dorian retorted. “Ah! Here it is.”_ _

__“Here what is?”_ _

__Dorian plopped himself into a large, fluffy looking chair and opened the somewhat large book. “It’s a fabric sample book. Evelyn- the Inquisitor- I mean, brings back samples from wherever she’s been, and I put them here. It makes for nice reference.”_ _

__“And what am I supposed to do with it?”_ _

__“Simple! You look through it and find your favorite!” Dorian exclaimed gleefully. “I’ll take care of the rest.”_ _

__“That doesn’t sound as reassuring as it should,” Amana said. “Give me the book. I’ll comply with your games for now.”_ _

__“Splendid!” Dorian handed her the book. “One more thing: you might want to run your choice by Lady Vivienne. If she approves, fantastic! If not, then make another choice. Quickly.”_ _

__“Why should her approval matter?” Amana rebuked._ _

__“Because _someone _, my dear, knows how to keep up appearances. If you are to be remaining with the Inquisition for any length of time, we cannot allow you to walk around in anything less than exceptional.”_ _ __

__“Madam de Fer, hitting a cue perfectly, as usual,” Dorian droned. “Amana, this is Lady Vivienne, court enchanter of the Imperial Court.”_ _

__“And leader of the loyalist mages, darling. But in regards to your clothes, dear Amana, something simply must be done. I cannot stand seeing such an atrocity.”_ _

___Leader of the loyalist mages _was the only thing that Amana truly heard. Loyalist mages were against the deformation of the Circles. They believed that the Circles were good, safe places for mages to live. Amana did not care what their experience had been; there was nothing good and just in being locked away as prisoners, solely because of being different._ _ __

__“How can anyone believe that the Circles are the answer?” Amana practically snarled. She had considered keeping her composure, but it was too late now. “They’re prisons! Mages are locked away because of their Maker given gifts. We are born with magic! Templars choose their lives! It isn’t right!”_ _

__“My dear, I need not hear political arguments from a child. If mages were deserving of their freedom, they should have it. But time and time again, mages have proved that they have no control over their powers. We are ‘locked away’ for the safety of others,” Vivienne condescended. She strolled leisurely over to Amana and snatched the book from her hand. “Dorian, my dear, I will take care of the child’s outfit.”_ _

__Vivienne left the room as quickly as she had entered it. Amana was left standing with her mouth agape. It was bad enough that she was a leader of the loyalist mages, but she spoke to her as if she was some ignorant fool, as if she was just a child who knew nothing of the world. Amana knew what the world was: harsh and cruel. And that was without templars._ _

__“I would suggest keeping your composure next time you speak with Vivienne,” Dorian chided. “She didn’t become advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane for nothing, you know.”_ _

__“Did you plan this?” Amana snapped, turning to him. “You said she hit a cue. Did you bring me here to make a fool of myself?”_ _

__“If you mean I had the intention of having her come here and make you look as unorganized and dysfunctional as any of the other rebelling mages, then I am afraid that you are mistaken. Vivienne had noted your worn clothes, and she wanted to take care of them. I offered to do so for her, in order to avoid premature conflict with her. Considering you have been an apostate for years now, I assumed that the two of you would not get along,” Dorian explained._ _

__“So, you were trying to protect me?” Amana asked. That was something she would not have anticipated from the Tevinter._ _

__“If you want to make it sound all the more dramatic, then yes. But the problem lies in the fact that Vivienne spends most of her time within earshot. She probably heard our little conversation and intervened.”_ _

__“If she wasn’t already eavesdropping,” Amana suggested. “But, I suppose I should thank you. You did seem to want to avoid any discomfort.”_ _

__“I do. Anyone who has the courage to leave a circle at such a young age is demanding of respect. Your life couldn’t have been easy, and you don’t need someone else adding to your burdens. Besides, I have the feeling that there is more to you than what you are letting on, and I wish to be on your good side,” Dorian said with a wink._ _

__“Maybe you’re not as bad as I first thought,” Amana said apprehensively. While Dorian had his quirks, it was possible that they could get along. It was possible that she had been too quick to judge. It wouldn’t have been the first time._ _

__“Don’t let that spread! It would simply _ruin _my reputation,” Dorian teased. “Now! What shall we do next? Our dear Inquisitor might not return for a while, and I have absolutely nothing to do until then.”_ _ __

__“Solas seems to be awfully busy with whatever he is doing. Do you have any similar tasks?” Amana asked._ _

__“I’m afraid I already gave my information to Leliana. She is looking into locations of Venatori for me. And until we find out a little more about Corypheus, there is not much I can do,” Dorian explained. “Although, I wonder if Leliana has found them yet.”_ _

__“We could go check. I haven’t met her yet, and as you very well saw, Cassandra would love it if I did,” Amana said._ _

__“Excellent point. And afterwards, you can help me organize the books. We only recently arrived at Skyhold, you see. There hasn’t been much time to take care of trivial matters.”_ _

__Amana agreed to help. Truly, she had nothing better to do unless she wanted to spend all of her time sulking around the battlements. Dorian had proved himself to not always be annoying and rude. At the very least, he was more appealing that Vivienne. Although, she was sure that nearly anyone in the Inquisition would be better than that anti-mage rights queen._ _

__Amana followed Dorian up the stairs to Leliana’s nook. There were plenty of birds, and many agents were either turning in assignments or receiving them. A woman wearing a purple hood, assumedly Leliana, was the center of it all. She was quick and discreet with her orders, and never once did that expressionless look leave her face._ _

__“Jim, if you botch one more assignment, I am going to have to put you under Commander Cullen as a new recruit. And you have heard of his training exercises, no? Do not fail again,” she snapped coldly._ _

__“Yes, Sister Nightingale.”_ _

__The scout hurried away down the stairs to do Maker knows what. Leliana turned to her and Dorian._ _

__“Dorian,” she greeted. “And I take it that this is Hawke’s companion, Amana Ashford from the Kirkwall Circle? Yes, I have heard much. Your healing efforts did not go unnoticed.”_ _

__There was something about the look in her eyes that made Amana wary. She was either capable of discovering every little secret about Amana’s life, or she already knew everything. Either way, the spymaster made Amana feel unnerved. Even now, she could feel the spymaster examining her and looking for weaknesses._ _

__“That would be me,” Amana answered. “Word travels quickly here, doesn’t it?”_ _

__“Perhaps.”_ _

__“Anyway,” Dorian chimed. “We came wondering if you had discovered the locations of those Venatori.”_ _

__Leliana subtly shook her head. “No. Not yet. I gave the assignment to Jim. That was a mistake. His only talent is being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I have one of my better agents working on it now.”_ _

__“Ah, I see. How long do you think it will take?” Dorian asked._ _

__“As long as it needs,” Leliana hissed. “Now, go. I have much work to attend to.”_ _

__Dorian and Amana both turned on their heel. It was very clear to Amana that Leliana was not someone to be messed with. She guessed that she would not be taking many trips to the third floor of the rotunda now._ _

__“Lovely, isn’t she? Gets the job done, that’s for sure,” Dorian chirped. “Now, about those books…”_ _

__For the next two hours, Amana helped Dorian organize all of the books in the library. It wouldn’t have taken so long, except Dorian wanted to organize them by subject and then by author. If Amana had been left to the task herself, she would have simply done it by author. Then again, Amana probably wouldn’t have done it at all. Books had never been her favorite things, and the only reason she didn’t have the reading skills of an eight year old was that Hawke and Anders both had insisted she improve the skill. She read Hard in Hightown more times that she could count. If she hadn’t been so young, she probably would have read Swords and Shields, but Hawke said that it would be too inappropriate for someone of her age. Eventually, she read Anders’ manifesto. She liked its simplicity, and she wondered why more people hadn’t bothered to read it back in Kirkwall._ _

__“I believe that is all of them,” Dorian said eventually. “I must thank you for your help, Amana. Without you, I’d be drowning in works of literature.”_ _

__“We couldn’t have that, could we?” Amana joked. “What would the world do without the good Tevinter?”_ _

__“Fall directly into an abyss, I think,” Dorian replied. “Or rather, go up entirely in flames. Either way, you’ve done Thedas a great service.”_ _

__“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Amana asked, thinking about her discussion with Varric earlier. He probably would be slightly concerned that he hadn’t seen her in a while._ _

__“I’m guessing sometime after noon. No doubt, we missed lunch. Quite a shame, isn’t it?”_ _

__“I should probably go talk to Varric,” Amana sighed. “He gave me a lecture about knowing where I am earlier this morning.”_ _

__“While I do hate to admit it, you are the youngest one here,” Dorian said. “Can’t just let a fourteen year old frolic around can we?”_ _

__Amana groaned. “You sound just like Varric now. And I was just starting to like you!”_ _

__Amana decided to leave Dorian to his books and go find the dwarf. While she did not really want to, she figured she owed that much to Hawke’s best friend. Besides, there was a chance that he could have rolls left over from lunch, and Amana was not just about to go and pass that opportunity up._ _

__She gave Solas a quick wave as she passed through his study. He was still completely engaged with whatever he was studying, and Amana doubted that he even noticed her. Opening the door to the main hall, she found Varric sitting in front of the fireplace, similar to where he was that same morning._ _

__“Have you been here all day?” Amana asked._ _

__“When the Inquisitor is away without me, my job becomes less shooty and more writey,” Varric said. “I’ve got my own spy network and contacts all over the Free Marches. Been using them to look into red lyrium.”_ _

__“And?”_ _

__“Nothing. No one knows anything about the stuff, besides that it’s bad news,” Varric sighed._ _

__“Give it some time. I’m sure people will figure it out,” Amana said._ _

__“I hate how all of this shit with the Wardens came up now. Hawke had said that she had been working on finding more out about it. Did you actually learn anything?”_ _

__Amana shook her head. In truth, it was hard to accomplish anything when you had not only templars, but also Sebastian on the hunt for you. Everything they did had to be done in secret. One wrong move could result with an arrow in the throat._ _

__“Ah, I see.” There was a pause, and Amana shuffled awkwardly, thinking about finding something else to do. “Tell me, how is Hawke? Really? I know things didn’t end well with her and Blondie. Is she alright with it now?”_ _

__Amana was smart enough to tell when Hawke had lied to someone about something. Clearly, she hadn’t been completely honest about Anders. Hawke had said that Varric hated Anders for what he did. Telling Varric that the two of them were still together would not be the right move._ _

__“I think she’s okay. She’s tired of it all, but she’s okay,” Amana answered. With luck, her short reply would be enough to satisfy the dwarf._ _

__“You would know. Thanks,” Varric sighed._ _

__“She talks about you all the time, you know,” Amana said, hoping to cheer him up. “I can’t go a day without hearing about the legendary Varric Tethras.”_ _

__“And what stories does she tell? She better tell the good ones.”_ _

__Amana proceeded to tell Varric many of the stories that Hawke had told her about their time in Kirkwall. With most of them, Varric always had another detail to add or something that Hawke didn’t get quite right. The only time when Varric was uneager with his storytelling was if the story involved Anders. While many of them included Fenris, Isabella, and the others, a large majority of them included him. It took everything in Amana to keep her from blurting out that Anders was a different man now, or at least he had to be. In the end, however, she knew it would only cause Varric pain and possibly create more danger for Anders._ _

__“You know what?” Varric said after a time. “You’re not so bad, Skits. A little reckless, a little rude, but that’s most people these days.”_ _

__“I’m not sure whether or not to take that as a compliment,” Amana retorted. “But I suppose it can’t hurt thanking you.”_ _

__“It’s always refreshing to receive some appreciation for my benevolence,” Varric said with a smirk._ _

__“Pardon me, but you wouldn’t happen to be Amana Ashford?” a messenger approached them and asked. “Lady Vivienne asked me to give this to you as soon as possible.”_ _

__The messenger handed Amana what appeared to be a mage robe of sorts. The cloth was soft, and it seemed like it would be good protection. The only problem was the actual…appearance. The color was the worst combination of yellow and brown. It hurt Amana’s eyes just to look at it._ _

__“Ouch. I can’t believe the Iron Lady actually went with plaideweave. What did you do to piss her off?”_ _

__“I only expressed my opinion when it came to mage rights,” Amana growled. In an instant, the hideous light armor burst into flames. Shortly, all that remained was ash. “And that takes care of that.”_ _


	3. Don't Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor returns to Skyhold, and Cole comforts Amana when her past comes back to haunt her. 
> 
> *This chapter has more angst than the previous ones*

“Why do you feel the need to come bother me every single waking hour of the day?” Cullen huffed. “I’m busy trying to do work, and you’re just…here!” He gestured dramatically at her with his hands. “Can’t you bother someone else for a change?”

Amana chuckled. It had been nearly two weeks since she had arrived at Skyhold. With neither Hawke nor the Inquisitor having returned yet, Amana found plenty of time in her day to bother the former templar. In all honesty, she had nothing better to do, and at least in this way, she was able to subtly get revenge on him from her time in the Circle. 

“Believe me, I do. But you’re the only one who reacts so strongly to it. You just make it all the more fun.”

“Well, spit it out, whatever you have to say. And if you’re just going to stand there and stare at me, then I urge you to find another pastime,” Cullen said. 

“The mage watches the templar. My, how the tables have turned,” Amana smirked. 

“I have apologized for that life, and I am trying to atone. Can’t you respect that and leave me be?” Cullen pleaded. 

Amana considered telling him no, but the look in his eyes was so desperate. It made her uncomfortable, thinking that her teasing words had made Cullen feel that way. It would be wrong to submit him to the same kind of scrutiny that mages did over templars. It would make her no better than those monsters. Yet, how many times did a templar try to hurt her? _But Cullen isn’t a templar anymore_ , she reminded herself. 

“Maybe,” Amana mused. “But I’d have nothing else to do if I left you alone. I could simply die of boredom.”

Cullen sighed and looked down at his desk. He shuffled through a few papers, finally selecting one. “If you are looking for something to keep you busy, go deliver this report to Josephine. And mind you, don’t read it. Inquisition matters do not belong in your head.”

“Will do, Captain,” Amana said with a wink. She grabbed the report from the Commander and scurried off to find the ambassador, who would, no doubt, be in her office, writing letters to the nobility. The job did not sound pleasant, to say the least. 

She ran through Solas’ study, and as per usual, he was enthralled with his work, not even bothering to look up at the sound of the opening and closing of a door. Either that, or he ignored her. Both of them seemed to be likely possibilities. 

Varric was still at his fireplace, writing letters and whatnot. It seemed as if everyone in Skyhold did the same thing all of the time in the same place. Maybe that was what normal life was like. Amana wouldn’t know; templars ensured of that. 

As expected, Lady Josephine Montilyet was at her desk. Amana had met her the previous week, and while she was a perfectly nice woman, her ability to say something without actually saying anything was infuriating. She supposed it was simply the Game, but Amana didn’t want to play it. 

“Commander Cullen sent me with this report to get me out of his hair,” Amana said as she plopped the report down on Josephine’s desk. 

“Thank you, Amana. I fear that the last time we spoke, I was distracted by my work. Might I ask how you are finding the Inquisition? Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable?”

Amana pondered the question for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Unless you can make Vivienne disappear?”

“I am sorry, but that is not my decision, and she has many contributions to the Inquisition that have proven to be of value,” Josephine replied, ever the diplomat. “Might there be anything else you require?”

“No, thank you.”

“Then, I must inform you that I have much work to be done. I bid you good day.” 

Having been politely kicked out of Josephine’s office, Amana found herself at a loss. Unless she wanted to go bother Cullen again (and she was sure the errand had been a way of getting rid of her), there was nothing she could do. It was almost enough to make her want to go up to Leliana and ask for a position as an agent or a scout, or even go to Cullen and ask to be a recruit. The only problem with that would be that she would have an obligation to stay with the Inquisition, even once Hawke was done with business here. While running around all the time was not exactly pleasant, she would rather be with Hawke and Anders than anyone else. And if that meant being a fugitive for the rest of her life, so be it. 

Amana walked over to Varric but was surprised to see a young man wearing a large, floppy hat. He was sitting on the table, legs swinging. For some reason, Amana felt that she had seen this man before, but she was drawing a blank. 

“Alright, kid. What’s the problem?” Varric asked. 

“The lady rises before the dawn, powder and color in hand. When he awakes, her face is not longer hers. It makes him sad. He likes her face when she wakes up. Varric, why does she change her face? It is beautiful in the morning.”

“Kid, are you asking me why women wear make-up?” Varric questioned. “I don’t know. They feel like they’re not pretty enough or they want to boost their confidence. Talk to Vivienne.” 

“Only if you want a lecture on why leaving the place that was going to make your sister tranquil was wrong,” Amana scoffed. 

“Young, youthful face. Bright, burning, radiant. Amana, your face is your own. Do you like your face?” the strange man asked. 

“I suppose so,” Amana said uneasily. “Although, I have not give much thought to it before. Who are you, exactly?” 

“I’m Cole. I came to help.” 

“Cole is, well, a spirit,” Varric explained. “He’s a spirit of compassion, so he tries to help. And he does this weird thing where he can make you forget he exists. Shit, I don’t know. Ask Solas if you want a more technical explanation.” 

“I think I’ll pass on that,” Amana said. “So, Cole, how do you help?” 

“Warm fire, stomach full, peaceful sleep. He misses you, but he knows it’s better this way. Don’t worry about him,” Cole said, giving an example. 

Amana hoped that Cole was talking about Anders. Neither she nor Hawke liked leaving him alone by himself. There were too many things that could go wrong. If this spirit was right, Anders was doing okay. It was only slightly comforting, but it did help, even if just a little bit. 

“Thank you, Cole. He means a lot to me, and it’s nice to know that he’s alright,” Amana said. “So that’s it? You just poke around in people’s brains, and then tell them what they need to hear?” 

“Sometimes, the hurt is more complicated. It is tangled, tied in knots. Tugging can tear it and cause more hurt. I help the hurt,” Cole said. “Your hurt is tangled, twisted. Tugging one thing tugs another. Too many tugs hurt.” 

“Now, how exactly do you ‘tug’?” Amana asked. She was curious by what the spirit boy meant. 

“I help. I find the hurt and make it go away. But sometimes, the hurt doesn’t want to leave. I don’t understand why,” Cole explained.  
“Some people deserve their hurt,” Amana sighed. “When their mistakes are the ones that take the people they love away from them.”

The three were quiet for a moment. Amana couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. It was her fault. She wasn’t careful enough. Varric wondered why she was so doleful all of a sudden, and Cole, he just wanted to help. 

“The Inquisitor has returned!” a messenger announced, his voice ringing clear throughout the hall. It broke the silence, and a grin spread across Varric’s face. 

“Well, Skits,” he smirked. “Ready to meet the fabled Herald of Andraste?” 

“Sure,” Amana replied, but her thoughts were elsewhere. 

“ _Careful cuts down each arm. Dagger the color of rust. Healing, helping, making the pain stop. With blood comes power. I should have noticed,_ ” Cole said, staring at Amana. Her eyes grew wide at the statement, and she felt wetness on her cheek. Her sister fell to temptation, and she did nothing to stop it. 

“I made you sad! I can make you forget!” Cole exclaimed. Amana shook her head. She deserved the pain. 

“Cole,” Varric said gently, “not now. C’mon Skits. Trevelyan will want to meet you.”

Amana wiped away the tears, feeling ashamed of herself. “Right.”

She followed the dwarf towards the main gates, where the Inquisitor and her companions could be seen handing their horses off to the stable boys. 

The Inquisitor was a tall, lanky woman with wispy blond hair tied in a braid down her back. She was paler than one would expect, but a few freckles were there as evidence of her recent time in the sun. A scar ran across her face, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five, but the tired expression on her face made her seem much older. 

Captain Noodle Head was already by her side. He asked her something that Amana couldn’t hear, but she shook her head in response. Her shoulders were slouched, and for a sign of hope, she looked completely and utterly defeated. 

Leliana approached, passing by Varric, Cole, and Amana. “It went poorly,” she explained briefly. Her vague statement was clear to anyone who looked at the Inquisitor. 

The members of the Inner Circle that had returned with her had the same expression gracing the faces. The qunari, who Amana assumed was the Iron Bull, had his brow creased as he spoke to a man that she recognized from the tavern her first day at Skyhold. An elf, Sera?, was halfheartedly kicking a rock around, mumbling under her breath. The third companion, a bearded man, had already turned to leave the party, retreating towards the stable. 

“What happened?” Varric asked. “I’ve never seen Evelyn look that down in the dumps before, even after Haven.”

“ _Demons. So many demons. A child screams, but is cut short. Fire burns bright, smothering, silencing,_ ” Cole imputed, somewhat answering Varric’s question. 

The Inquisitor began to walk away from the commander and spymaster, but they followed in her wake. Cullen lightly rested a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. Instead, she looked over at Leliana. 

“Whoever sent that scouting report did a shit job of scouting,” she hissed. “Another Fade rift in the Hinterlands would have been manageable, but they forget to mention that the damned thing was in the _middle of the Crossroads._ ”

“I apologize, my lady. It will not happen again,” Leliana replied. 

“Cullen, send your men to work on reconstruction efforts, and tell Josephine to do what ambassador shit she has to do to make up for this mess.” 

“Inquisitor, are you sure that you’re alright?” Cullen asked. Both of the advisors looked concerned. 

“It doesn’t matter how I feel when half of the refugees in the Hinterlands are dead and the other half are mourning,” Evelyn snapped. “I’ll be in my quarters if anyone needs me. We’ll have war council tomorrow.”

“Of course.” 

The Inquisitor stormed away, but Cole was quick to follow. Amana had a feeling that the spirit would be turned away, but she was surprised when Evelyn just nodded her head at him and gestured for him to follow. She glanced at Varric, expecting an explanation. Varric just shrugged his shoulders. 

“So, is this was Dorian meant by ‘abrasive’?” Amana asked. 

“Maybe abrasive wasn’t the right word,” Varric said. “Direct would probably work better. She gets the job done without dancing around it, and she expresses her opinions clearly. Sparkler’s a noble, or at least he was. Probably isn’t used to an approach that isn’t backhanded.”

“Should someone tell Hawke that the Inquisitor probably isn’t going to make it out to Crestwood for a while? I could always do it,” she volunteered a little too quickly. While she had found that Dorian and Varric weren’t as bad as she thought, nothing could ever beat the adventures, or rather misadventures, with Hawke. 

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra said as she approached the dwarf and teenaged mage. “You? Alone? I cannot allow the possibility of an adolescent becoming injured or killed simply for the sake of informing Hawke of a delay.” 

Amana crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. It was infuriating how everyone assumed that just because she was young she couldn’t take care of herself. Apostasy and war could make someone grow up pretty fast. You can’t survive being an ignorant child forever. These were things Amana had learned fairly quickly.

A guileful smile crossed Amana’s lips as an idea came to mind. Whether it was confidence, arrogance, or pure idiocy, she had yet to decide. “Cassandra, I challenge you to a sparring match. If I win, I get to go track down Hawke. If I lose…” she paused, thinking of something that Cassandra might find desirable. “Anyone of your choosing can accompany me to the Hinterlands where I can treat the wounded.” 

“We have plenty of healers who can already attend to them,” Cassandra rebutted. “Besides, this is a ridiculous idea. I will not spar a child.” 

“Are you sure about the healers, Seeker? Last time I checked, all of the rebel mages lack healing skills, and I don’t believe Viv, Dorian, or even Chuckles has as much talent in that department as our ‘protégé’ does here,” Varric said. 

“Why would you encourage this, Varric?” Cassandra asked. “It is a foolish notion.” 

“Are you scared of losing?” Amana taunted. 

“No, of course not.” 

“Give the kid a chance,” Iron Bull added, joining the conversation and giving Cassandra a slap on the back. “Do it.”

“Alright,” Cassandra snarled. “I’ll do it. Just know it brings me no pleasure to best a fourteen-year-old in combat.” 

“Smack talk already? Such confidence,” Amana chided. 

“Ugh,” Cassandra huffed. “What are your rules for the sparring?” 

“My rules? No killing. Everything else is fair play.”  
“Oh, I like this one,” Bull chuckled. 

“You do know that I am a Seeker, Amana. I have the same abilities as a templar,” Cassandra explained. “Are you sure you want to go with those rules?” 

“Did I stutter?” Amana rebuked. She blamed her cockiness for too much exposure to Hawke. She did, however, have the skills to back it up. 

“Fair enough. Shall we do so now?” Cassandra asked. 

“Of course.” 

The two walked to the sparring ring. It was smaller than what Amana would have preferred. She was used to fighting in large areas or open spaces. Two of the soldiers had been in the middle of what appeared to be a long, hard fought spar. In an instant, Cassandra had kicked them out of the ring. With sword and shield in hand, she had the same fierceness that Amana saw in many templars. 

A crowd began to form around the ring. Many soldiers and scouts had stopped whatever they had been doing. Amana noted that all of the Inner Circle, except for Vivienne and Solas was there. Varric must have spread word of the fight. Even the Inquisitor stood there, arms crossed, but with an eyebrow raised, as if she found it amusing.

“Amana, I would prefer it if you weren’t dead,” Dorian called. 

“Don’t you need a staff?” Cassandra asked, looking at empty-handed Amana. Amana smiled and shook her head. She never used a staff. Nothing screamed _I’m a mage!_ more than a long stick. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Skits, but the odds are ten to one against you,” Varric said. 

“No matter,” she replied, looking at Cassandra. “I’m going to win.” 

The sparring proved to be long and tiresome with neither Cassandra nor Amana gaining any ground. Cassandra would attack in some form or fashion, while Amana would easily deflect the attack. Then, Amana would unleash a spell, or if Spell Purged, use a small dagger that she hid in her right boot. They were either equally matched, or the different fighting styles made it challenging to actually win. Eventually, soldiers and scouts lost interest and went on to complete their other tasks. Before long, only Varric, Dorian, Cole, and the Inquisitor stood watching. 

The fight finally ended when Amana froze Cassandra’s sword hand and did a roundhouse kick, removing the sword from the Seeker’s grasp. The Inquisitor declared this sufficient enough for Amana to be declared the winner. Cassandra had no objections, and Amana felt somewhat accomplished. 

“You know,” Evelyn began, approaching Amana, “no one has been that successful against Cassandra in a spar, and Leliana has informed me of your healing abilities. The Inquisition could put your skills to good use.” 

“They will be put to good use when I tell Hawke that you’re running a little bit behind schedule,” Amana replied nonchalantly. “I’ll probably leave in the morning.” 

The Inquisitor briefly glared at her before a less hostile expression appeared. “No, I want to assign you under Leliana as an agent. At such a young age, you’d be able to gather information from places that our older agents could not reach.” 

“No,” Amana refused bluntly and saw Varric snickering behind his hand. She could see this becoming his new story, but she did not come here to join the Inquisition. She came here to wait for her friend to get back. 

“You could help save Thedas from destruction, and your answer is ‘no’?” the Inquisitor fumed. “Are you always this selfish?” 

Amana shrugged her shoulders. “I wouldn’t say always. I’ll help when I want to help, and I’ll help when I think what I’d be doing would actually do the most good.” 

“If not Leliana, would you join Commander Cullen’s forces?” Evelyn demanded. For a Circle mage, the Inquisitor expected more from others than what Amana would have originally thought. 

“And fight under my ex-jailor? No, thanks,” Amana said. “Look, I don’t think I’d make a great agent or soldier. If you needed a healer, I could fulfill that position, but I have people that I care about and want to be with. It’s nothing against you, the Inquisition, or saving the world. It’s about me doing what I think is best for me.” 

Evelyn Trevelyan stormed away for the second time that day, and Amana began to wonder how she became leader of the Inquisition with an attitude like that. Varric said she had a rough time in the Circle; was this a result of that? 

“Amana Ashford, apostate mage who shows no fear,” Varric applauded with a clap to her back. “But, would joining the Inquisition really be all that bad?” 

“Joining the Inquisition would not allow me to stay together with my family,” Amana answered truthfully. “I just want to keep my small family together; anything else is bonus.” 

“And Hawke has gone through enough,” Varric concluded. 

Amana smiled lightly. “I’m glad you understand where I’m coming from.”

“Oh, hey! Bull was wanting me to ask if you’d like to join us for a game of Wicked Grace,” Varric said. “I told him that you can’t played Wicked Grace to save your life, but he insisted.” 

“I am great at Wicked Grace!” Amana exclaimed with her face scrunched in mock offense. 

“You’re lucky that you have no coin to lose,” Varric scoffed. “Otherwise you would have been flat broke after our last game.” 

Amana rolled her eyes and strolled off to the tavern. She had proved that she was an able fighter; she could prove that she could win at Wicked Grace. All she needed was a little bit of luck and Andraste’s blessing. 

A large table was set up in the tavern. It appeared that all of the Inner Circle was already there, with the exceptions of Solas and Vivienne. The qunari was sitting at the end of the table with Sera on his left and Dorian on his right. Cassandra sat on the other end with her arms across her chest. She did not look happy, and Amana wondered if that had anything to do with her recent loss. On the other hand, Cole looked as happy as could be, sitting on a little stool. The warden sat on the left side of Cassandra, and like her, he did not look too thrilled to be there. 

Amana took a seat next to Cole, and Varric sat on the other side of her. There was only one chair left at the table. 

“Is the Inquisitor coming or what?” Bull asked the dwarf. “I want to get this started before more shit happens with demons.” 

“ _Tired and torn. Strained and drained. The lion wants to help, but he is unsure how,_ ” Cole interjected. 

“Well, that answers that question,” Varric said. 

The game began. As usual, Amana received terrible cards, and she wondered if there was a conspiracy in place. Dirty jokes were told that Amana wished she had never heard. These were mostly the Iron Bull’s and Sera’s doing, but Varric had a few to contribute. The conversations were varied, and Amana had little to add to many of them. After a while, she couldn’t come up with a reason why she was still playing. For the most part, she was ignored, and she was not having the best luck with the game. Really, she should be preparing for her trip to Crestwood, but it wasn’t like she required anything. 

“Skits, got any interesting stories to tell about Hawke?” Varric eventually asked when there was a lull in discussion. 

She had plenty, but all of them involved Anders. “We killed stuff, helped a few Circles rebel. Nothing stands out to me,” she lied. 

“You were with Hawke for two years. Unless you think we’re stupid, you’ve got to have something good to tell,” Varric rebuked gently. “C’mon, Skits.”

“Well, there was this one time that Hawke and I got lost on our way to Ostwick…” Amana proceeded to lie through her teeth and tell a completely ridiculous story that got everyone laughing. It must have been believable because Varric said that it sounded exactly like something Hawke would do. 

“They should have just used arrows!” Sera exclaimed at the end. “Make more sense, wouldn’t it? Magic is too blargh! An arrow in the right spot can kill just right!” 

Amana felt her stomach twist into knots. That was something she knew all too well to be true. With Sebastian and his men constantly hunting them, and then… she couldn’t even stand to think about what happened to her brother.

“Arrow in the head if you want it quick, arrow in the stomach if you want it slow, arrows are the way to go!” Sera giggled with a hiccup. Amana’s face paled, and she felt a small tremor go through her body as the memory came flooding back. 

“I-I think I need to g-go,” Amana stuttered. She stood from the table shakily and almost felt her knees buckle under her weight. She needed to leave. She needed to get away from the elf with the arrows. 

“Are you alright?” Varric asked with concern etched across his features. “You don’t look so good.” 

“I-I’m f-fine,” she stammered. As quickly as her legs allowed, she left the Herald’s Rest. The fresh air felt good against her skin, but it didn’t stop her thoughts. It had just been one arrow that led to a slow death. 

Unsure how, Amana found herself back at the crumbled wall. Sitting down, she pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. Hawke and Anders had always been careful to avoid talking about arrows after what happened to her brother. There was no way for any of them to know about what had happened. Maybe she should have said something earlier. 

“I can help.”

Amana jumped at the sound of Cole’s voice. He had appeared from nowhere, but now he was sitting besides her. Had she just not noticed him approaching or was this one of his spirit abilities? 

“How?” 

“I could make you forget. You wouldn’t have to remember Mason or Scarlett,” Cole said. It came as little surprise to Amana that Cole already knew her siblings’ names. He probably knew everything already. 

“I can’t forget my family. B-besides, Scarlett could still be alive. M-maybe someday…” Amana replied. She looked down and rested her head in her knees. When her shoulders began to shake, Cole sprung into action. 

“Scarlett was scared. She felt alone. It wasn’t your fault!” he said. A sob escaped her lips, and Cole realized that that it didn’t help. 

“C-Cole, why did she l-leave me? She left me for b-blood magic.” 

“She wanted to protect you. She thought it would make her stronger. She couldn’t let the templars take you from her.”

“It was my fault,” she whispered. “They always tried to protect me, but when it mattered most, I couldn’t help them.” 

Cole had seen humans give each other hugs when they were sad. Her hurt was so tangled; his words wouldn’t help. Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened, and Cole was scared that he had done something wrong. He pulled away, but she reached an arm out to him. 

“D-don’t l-leave m-me, too,” she sniffled. 

Cole put his arms back before they were before. It felt strange. He wondered how this helped the hurt, and he realized that he would have to ask Varric later. Amana trembled in his arms as the tears poured down her face, but she soon stilled.

“I was four,” Amana began in a whisper, even though she knew Cole knew all of this by now. She had to say it. She had felt better after talking to Hawke and Anders about it. Maybe this time would be no different. 

“My m-magic surfaced early, and my parents didn’t want m-me. They wanted a _normal_ child, unlike m-me and my brother and sister. We lived in Kirkwall, so they turned me over to the templars without a second thought. I was taken to the Circle. I-I was a child, but they treated me like a d-demon. I-I slept on the floor because there weren’t enough beds for the apprentices. The t-templars would w-watch me sleep.” 

“I didn’t find out about my brother and sister for an entire year. The t-templars m-made us spend time together, and we became close. B-but, the templars only wanted l-leverage. They took away my meals when my sister talked back or if my brother did a spell wrong. If I c-cried too much, t-they hurt them and threatened solitary confinement.”

“Scarlett was ten years older than me, and Mason was six years older than me. I only saw them enough to keep the love alive, but _I loved them_. When rumors of the Mage Underground began to spread, all of the mages became a little more rebellious. I-I called Cullen ‘Captain Noodle Head.” Amana smiled faintly. 

“Scarlett was the most rebellious of the three of us. She t-talked back and s-set fire to things when the templars weren’t looking. T-they were going to make her Tranquil, but Anders found out. He rescued us and got us out of the city. Somehow our phylacteries got destroyed, too.” 

“We were okay for a while. We found a little town far away from Kirkwall. They didn’t know we were mages, and we hid it well. The Chantry sisters took us in,” Amana laughed a little. “The Chantry, of all people.” 

“I learned about the Maker, and I found my faith. Scarlett was going to become a lay sister. Mason got an apprenticeship with a blacksmith. _We were happy_.” She took a deep breath, and Cole felt a tremor go through her. “Until I ruined it.” 

“I-I wasn’t careful enough. I w-was crossing the road, and I didn’t see the h-horse. I-I was small, only t-ten. The r-rider didn’t see m-me. Scarlett d-did. She f-froze the horse and s-saved me. B-but we had to l-leave. They k-knew about our magic.” 

“W-we ran f-for a-as l-long as we could, but we got so tired. T-there w-were so many t-templars after us. We w-were d-desperate. W-we saw a campfire and t-thought it c-could be a friendly hunter who c-could f-feed us.” Amana choked back a sob, and for some reason, Cole felt his arms tightening around the small mage. 

“The D-dalish were h-hostile, and t-they attacked us on sight. M-mason was s-shot in the s-stomach by an a-arrow.” More tears fell from her eyes and blocked her vision. She held onto Cole tighter, focusing on him instead of the dark memory that threatened to swallow her. As ironic as it was, a spirit was her anchor to the real world. 

“H-he died. Slowly. We w-wanted to h-help h-him, but the D-Dalish still attacked with their b-bows. T-there was s-so much blood, and h-he told us to l-leave while we c-could.” Amana let her tears fall freely. Mason was only sixteen, and it was so unfair that elves took him away from her. 

“I t-took a v-vow that I w-wouldn’t let S-Scarlett or m-me be in a s-situation like that again. I-I practiced h-healing magic. I f-fixed the c-cuts on Scarlett’s arms. S-she said t-that they were from the b-branches. I-I should have k-known,” Amana cried. While Amana had chosen a path of healing to help the pain, her sister chose to find power so that no one would ever hurt them again. Blood magic could give any mage an edge. 

“O-one day, some t-templars saw my sister and me p-practicing magic. T-there w-were so m-many, and I-I was so a-afraid. S-Scarlett told me to r-run, so I-I did. B-but I saw her summon the d-demons first, and I s-saw her become an a-abomination,” Amana sobbed. She had gone so long without talking about it. She had let it slip from her mind, but anytime it returned, it was always worse. Her beautiful sister had turned into a monster right before her eyes. 

“You still hurt. You can stop talking about it,” Cole offered. “I can find a way to help the hurt.” 

“I-I need to f-finish. Just d-don’t l-leave.” 

“W-when I returned to the a-area a c-couple days later, all of the t-templars were d-dead, but S-Scarlett was g-gone. I w-waited, but s-she never came back. She l-left me!” 

“I was a-alone for so long. I w-was too scared to f-find anyone or t-talk to anyone. It was a y-year before Hawke and Anders f-found me. I was t-twelve. They t-took me in, and they became like parents to me. I found a new family, and I’m t-terrified to lose them.”

Amana cried into Cole’s arms until there were no more tears left. He realized that this would help the hurt, even if it didn’t seem like it. Cole stayed still and let her cry. He was happy that he was helping someone, but her fear of being alone made him sad. The real Cole had been left alone to die. 

From exhaustion, Amana eventually feel asleep. Her breathing became even, and she seemed calm. Cole had watched people sleep before, but they had been older. There was something beautiful and strange about her peaceful face. There was more innocence and more naivety. Cole then understood. For all her talk, Amana was just a child, trying to find her way in a dark world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole was a little bit of a challenge to write, but it was fun. I was going to include more details about the spar between Amana and Cassandra, but I discovered that I can't write fight scenes to save my life. 
> 
> Kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed! :)


	4. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amana finally leaves Skyhold

“You were shaking like a leaf yesterday! As a concerned friend, I simply cannot allow you to leave Skyhold just like that,” Dorian exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. Amana sighed and continued to look for a map of Ferelden. She had come to the library in hopes of making sure she remembered correctly how to get to Crestwood, and instead, she had found a flustered Tevinter mage. 

“I’ll be fine,” Amana insisted. “It’s not like I haven’t traveled by myself before.” Finally having found the map, she confirmed that she was right about which way to go. For a mage who lacked a “formal education in the Circle,” Amana had a fairly strong memory. 

“And you’re traveling alone! My dear, how could you do this to me? I am going to worry to death!” 

Amana snorted. “I didn’t know you cared so much, Dorian. Here I thought I was just the wondrous organizer of books to you.” 

“Perish the thought!” Dorian replied indignantly. “If something happened to you, I would feel absolutely dreadful.” 

“I would probably feel worse,” Amana quipped. She gave Dorian a bright smile and turned to leave. She planned on stopping by the kitchen next to grab a filling breakfast before leaving. If she was lucky, she could be out or nearly out of the Frostback Mountains by nightfall. 

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Dorian said, stopping Amana in her tracks. She sighed and turned back to face the mage. 

“I was going to grab some breakfast before I left,” Amana answered. “If you feel that I should skip the most important meal of the day, I’ll just leave now.”

Dorian rubbed his forehead as an exasperated huff escaped his lips. “Maybe, just maybe, it would be wise to bring someone with you. There are too many demons, red templars, and crazy mages for a young girl to be traveling by herself.” 

“I _am_ a crazy mage. I’ll be fine,” Amana said perkily. 

Not feeling like hearing more of Dorian’s grievances, Amana quickly went down the stairs. Solas wished her luck on her travels as she passed through his study. She was glad that Solas had no sage wisdom to bestow upon her. She wanted to leave Skyhold and find Hawke. She felt embarrassed for having lost control of herself. If she were ever to be respected as a mage, she would always have to stay in control of her emotions. Amana simply couldn’t afford to focus on the past. 

“Skits, did you honestly believe that you would be able to sneak out without me knowing?” Varric asked as she passed by his fireplace. Amana had been hoping that Varric would still be asleep or somewhere else. She had lost enough time with Dorian. 

“I already received a lecture from Dorian. I’ll be fine,” Amana said, skipping straight to the point. 

“I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself. If you can beat the Seeker in a sparring match, you’re pretty impressive,” Varric said with a warm smile. “But, I just need to know what happened with you yesterday.” 

“I’m sure Cole could tell you all the details,” Amana said, easily ignoring Varric’s request. If she started talking about it again, she would cry again, and then Dorian would really not let her leave. 

“Or a jumbled version of the truth. Look, Skits. It may not seem like it, but I care. What happened that made you so upset?” 

Amana shook her head. She wouldn’t say anything. She had talked about her past twice already; a third time so soon would just be too much. If she embraced apathy, she could protect herself. 

“I guess I understand. Curly never wants to talk about Kirkwall. That damned city…” Varric sighed. “It’s home, but it’s a mess.” 

Amana had only lived in Kirkwall for the first eight years of her life, but she had to agree. “I never liked Kirkwall.” 

“Obviously.” Varric smirked. “After all, you _did_ escape the Circle. That’s a death wish in itself.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Amana muttered. 

A runner quickly approached the two. His pace was quicker than normal, and a look of urgency was spread across his face. 

“The Lady Inquisitor requests your presence in the war room immediately,” he relayed, looking directly at Amana. 

“Well, Varric,” Amana said, truly hoping that the messenger meant Varric. “It wouldn’t be wise to keep her waiting.” 

“She requested the teenaged traveling companion of the Champion of Kirkwall,” the messenger interjected. 

“Skits, if the Inquisitor wants you at her war table, it’s probably something important,” Varric emphasized, nudging her in the back.  
“Andraste’s knickerweasels!” Amana exclaimed. She ran a hand through her hair and bit back a frustrated scream. How hard was it to leave in the early morning for Crestwood? Hawke hadn’t seemed to have had this much trouble. 

“Colorful language,” Varric commented with a raised eyebrow. 

Ignoring the dwarf, Amana stormed off to the war room. The sooner she took care of this mess with the Inquisitor, the sooner she could leave and find Hawke. 

She had discovered the war room one of her first days at Skyhold, but Josephine had been quick to tell her that it was forbidden to everyone besides the Inquisitor, her advisors, and the Inner Circle. Amana had rolled her eyes and returned to the infirmary to check for new patients. She found it strange how the Inquisitor wanted her in the war room now. 

The doors to the war room were exceptionally large, and they were completely closed. After a failed attempt to open them, Amana was debating whether she should leave or burn the doors down when Cullen opened them with the greatest of ease. 

“Took you long enough,” he huffed. 

“It’s not like I exactly want to be here,” Amana said. “I could have been well on my way by now.” 

Amana took a look around the war room. Honestly, she was expecting more. There was a large table, and some metal statues representing the different advisors’ specialties. She thought that there would at least be a single chair in the room. 

“We are pleased that you could join us,” Josephine greeted. On the other hand, Leliana eyed her suspiciously. Cullen appeared aggravated that she was even in the war room. 

The Inquisitor smiled, but her eyes were cold and calculating. In more ways than one, Evelyn reminded her of Leliana. They seemed like they would do anything to further their own goals. 

“As we have all been very well informed,” Leliana began, “you have refused to join the Inquisition, despite the positive impact you would have in doing so. However, you still may be of use to us, provided that you are willing.”

“Nothing of high importance,” the Inquisitor added. “Just a few simple tasks that would be on your way to Crestwood. Our agents have many other things to attend, and Cullen’s soldiers are too busy training to take care of this themselves.” 

“If we are to prevent the events of Haven from happening again,” Cullen interjected, “our soldiers must be better prepared.” 

With the Inquisitor and Leliana’s menacing stares, as well as Cullen’s obvious opposition to the idea, Amana did not feel too inclined to take care of trivial business. Josephine’s gentle smile was encouraging, but Amana had a feeling that this was all a game to her. 

On the other hand, Hawke would disapprove if she didn’t try her best to help the Inquisition. They had left Anders alone to assist this new organization; the sooner the Inquisition was back on its feet, the sooner they could return to him. 

“If it doesn’t take too much of my time, why not?” Amana decided aloud with a shrug of her shoulders. Besides, agreement would probably allow her to leave sooner. 

“Splendid!” the Inquisitor exclaimed, a genuine smile gracing her face. “Now, if you could just follow along…” 

Within minutes, the discussion between the Inquisitor and her advisors became nothing but a drone of noise and the occasional movement of a piece on the table. Occasionally, Evelyn would glance over at Amana to make sure that she was still paying attention. Amana must have appeared to be interested because she was never rebuked. 

The council seemed to go on for hours. The only thing Amana found of note was how Cullen would occasionally touch the Inquisitor’s hand unnecessarily while they moved pieces on the war table or he would move to stand by her to get a “better view of the map.” This, of course, would be followed by flirtatious smiles by the Inquisitor and knowing smiles by Leliana and Josephine. The whole scene made Amana want to gag. If either of them was trying to make it seem unobvious that they had something for each other, they were failing miserably. 

What did they even see in each other? The Inquisitor was harsh and manipulating, while Cullen was the “good” ex-templar who was trying to “atone.” And if the Inquisitor had had such a hard time in the Circle, then why did she shamelessly flirt with someone who didn’t even see mages as people? 

“Did you get all that?” the Inquisitor finally asked, looking over at Amana scornfully. “Do you know what you need to do?” 

“Deliver some messages basically,” Amana answered. She hoped it would be enough to satisfy the Inquisitor because that was the gist of what she had heard. 

“Yes, very good,” the Inquisitor said approvingly. Amana was surprised. If it had taken hours for them to decide which letters she should carry to whom, it did not bode well for Thedas. “To ensure that this all goes smoothly, I request that you take any one of my companions with you. Usually, I would suggest bringing three, but given your circumstance…” 

“Do I really need to take someone?” Amana sighed. The whole point of sparring Cassandra was to prove that she could handle herself. She didn’t need a babysitter. 

“Of course,” Leliana rebuked. “You have not proven yourself trustworthy yet.” 

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Amana huffed in resignation. She then considered her options. There was no way that she would take Vivienne, Sera, or Cassandra, which meant she had six to choose from. She didn’t know Blackwall well enough to be comfortable traveling with him, and as a qunari, Iron Bull would attract too much attention. Solas probably had more research to do, and Dorian would play mother hen the entire time. That left Varric or Cole. 

Varric would definitely want to see Hawke again, and he would probably make good travel company. He would take care of himself and share entertaining stories. Plus Amana knew he could fight well from the many stories she had heard from Hawke. 

But Varric didn’t know that Hawke and Anders were still together. He didn’t know about the special bond that Amana shared with the apostate. If Hawke happened to rendezvous with Anders while waiting for the Inquisitor to arrive, Amana definitely would not want Varric to find out. 

Cole, on the other hand, knew everything already, and for some reason she couldn’t quite figure out, Amana trusted him. He only wanted to help people, and that seemed like the best motivation out of all the members of the Inquisition. 

“Cole,” she announced finally. Surprise registered on everyone’s faces, but no one protested. 

 

“You seem cold, Amana. Do you want my hat?” Cole asked as he followed the shivering mage through the Frostback Mountains. 

After the war council, Amana’s departure had become no trouble. She had found Cole in the tavern and asked him if he would come with her to Crestwood. When she told him it would help her, he agreed immediately. Amana grabbed some food from the kitchens, stuffed it into a pack, and before she knew it, they were out the gates of Skyhold. 

Amana had forgotten how cold the mountains were. Hawke had a warmth about her that could make anyone forget about freezing temperatures. She almost regretted not accepting the new outfit from Vivienne. It had looked warm, at least. 

“Your hat?” Amana asked through clattering teeth. She had tried a warming spell a while ago, but it had been too cold for her to keep her focus long enough for it to work. 

“Varric said hats keep heads warm,” Cole explained. “Would my hat help your cold?” 

At this point, Amana doubted that nothing would help her cold and that one of Leliana’s scouts would find a frozen body, but something was better than nothing. 

“Sure, Cole. Thanks.” Amana smiled briefly as Cole removed his outrageously large hat and placed it on her head. It kept some more snow from falling on her, and it blocked most of the wind. The only problem was that she could barely see where she was going, and it threw her slightly off balance. 

They walked quietly for a while with the wind being the only thing making a sound. Cole never strayed too far away from Amana, but sometimes he would momentarily disappear. Amana was not entirely sure where he went, but somehow, he always managed to be there when she was about to slip on ice or trip over a rock. 

Eventually, the silence became overwhelming for Amana. With Hawke and Anders, it had been funny stories or passionate speeches about freedom. There was never a dull moment. 

“Cole, how did you join the Inquisition?” Amana finally asked to break the silence. 

“I wanted to help. The templars were coming to kill, so I came to warn,” Cole answered. “The Inquisitor thought I could help. She let me stay.”

Amana was surprised that the Inquisitor had allowed Cole to stay. She seemed like a mage who would get rid of anything that might possibly possess her, instead of facing the challenge head on. 

“Do you like the Inquisitor?” 

“ _Safe, solid, solitary. I deserve it all. The Maker doesn’t love me. I am a curse._ ”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question, Cole,” Amana said gently. To be honest, she was unsure of what Cole meant. 

“It isn’t her fault. The templars made her, like they made you. Like they made me,” Cole replied softly. He kicked a small pile of snow. “ _Dark and desperate. Death to make myself alive_.”

“Are you alright, Cole?” Amana asked. She had never heard Cole sound so downcast. 

“Yes. I used to be that way. I’m not anymore,” he said happily, becoming his usual self again in an instant. 

As they continued to walk through the mountains, Amana wished she were a shape shifter so she could turn into a bird or something else that could fly. It would take forever to get out of the Frostbacks, and with all of the letters that the Inquisitor wanted her to personally deliver, it would take probably three weeks for them to even get to Crestwood. 

Cole eventually brought up how Varric was trying to teach him how to tell knock-knock jokes. Amana cringed at his first few attempts. He butchered the simplest of jokes. Being a self-proclaimed jokester herself, Amana was determined to teach Cole how to properly tell a knock-knock joke. 

It was a disaster. She would teach him a joke, and when he messed it up, she would find herself laughing at his failure. That made Cole think he was telling it right, so as time went on, his jokes somehow managed to become even worse. 

By the time they were ready to rest for that night, Amana had given up any hope of making Cole a mediocre jokester. She resolved to have Hawke try to teach Cole, but she figured that Hawke wouldn’t have any luck either. 

“Let’s hope that our lives never depend on you having to tell a good joke, Cole,” Amana teased. 

“Why would our lives depend on that?” Cole asked. The genuinely perplexed look on his face made Amana chuckle.

“Never mind.” 

Realizing that she hadn’t even brought a bedroll with her in her haste to leave, Amana felt ridiculously stupid. To make matters worse, there was snow everywhere, so the ground would be freezing, not lukewarm like the ground in the Free Marches. 

“You can fall asleep, Amana. I’ll make sure that no one attacks. I don’t need sleep,” Cole said. 

“Hopefully, I won’t freeze to death.”  
“You won’t,” Cole said assuredly. “You have my hat.” 

 

For the next two weeks, Cole and Amana were fortunate to encounter no one along the roads besides the occasional farmer or one of Leliana’s agents, and they fell into a relaxed camaraderie with each other. Between telling jokes and sharing stories, Amana felt as if she was becoming better at the vague way of speaking Cole had. Cole felt as if he understood Amana a little better, and if she ever hurt again, he was sure that he would know how to help. 

They had successfully delivered all three of the letters, and Amana felt happy when each of the letters was ones that soldiers had written for their families. While they were insignificant to the success of the Inquisition, both Amana and Cole loved seeing the relieved look on a mother’s face when she heard that her son or daughter was still breathing. 

It did, however, make her wonder why the Inquisitor had bothered to have her sit in on a war council. It wouldn’t surprise her if this were some sort of mind game Evelyn Trevelyan would play. Leliana had said that Amana wasn’t trustworthy? By accomplishing these tasks, would she prove she was trustworthy? yet. Maybe she should have paid more attention during the meeting…

Once they were out of the mountains, Amana had returned Cole’s hat to him. He wore it with pride, but it made it harder for Amana to see Cole’s eyes when she was speaking to him. She wondered where he had acquired such a hat, but she decided not to ask. 

“How much longer do you think it will take to get to Crestwood?” Cole asked after they had passed through a small village. 

“Probably a week or less if the weather stays good,” Amana replied. She had been enjoying the warm air on her face and the bright sun. It was definitely more familiar than the frigid temperatures at Skyhold. It reminded her of the Free Marches, and while she could never really consider that place home, it made her think of Hawke and Anders. She missed them, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before she saw them again. 

“Red templars!” Cole exclaimed, removing Amana from her reverie. His daggers were drawn, and he was poised to attack. 

Amana supposed it had been too much to hope for that they could go an entire journey without encountering templars. No matter where she went, templars never seemed to be far off. 

There were more red templars than Amana wanted to fight, but it was clear that they had noticed her and Cole. With the village nearby, she also felt that it would be wrong to run. 

Cole was faster than she was, and he was already slashing at the templars. He would disappear, leaving them confused, only to reappear a moment later and backstab one. It was the first time she had seen Cole fight, and she found herself impressed with his skills. 

Not wanting Cole to have the fun, Amana joined in, slyly casting spells and making sure not to draw much attention to her. Her real strength came from attacking at a distance. While she was capable of defending herself with melee weapons, such as the small dagger she always kept in her right boot, she definitely preferred not being that close to her opponents. 

When she saw Cole take a hit, Amana quickly casted a healing spell and then roasted the offending templar. She was surprised when the red templar didn’t fall over dead. She had fought plenty of normal templars before, but these were like no other. They were faster, and their hits were more powerful. 

Before long, Amana found herself using her healing magic more than her offensive spells. Cole was taking more hits than he should, acting like a warrior when he was better suited for sneak attacks. She wanted to call out to him and tell him to stop, but she didn’t want to distract him or risk drawing more of the templars’ attention to her. 

It seemed like forever, but eventually all of the red templars were dead on the ground. Cole was a little beat up, but Amana knew it could have been much worse. She was thankful that there hadn’t been more of them, or the skirmish might have had a very different ending. 

Cole was bent over one of the red templars, looting the body. Amana knelt down to the one closest to her with hopes of finding a reason why there were here. Until the templars had broken away from the chantry, they had always done something because of an order. 

Looking in a pocket, Amana found a folded up piece of paper. After carefully unfolding it, she read it and found her reason. 

_Must strengthen hold at Storm Coast before Inquisition discovers Daewin’s Mouth. Look for any stray templars. Teach them the new song._

“Of course,” Amana scoffed. “Templars crave so much power that they just have to ingest the red stuff. All the better to murder mages.” 

“Amana,” Cole said, appearing beside her. “The red templars are in service to the Elder One.” 

“They wouldn’t be in service to him if they had stayed with the chantry. Instead, they left to purge mages!” Amana argued. She felt the bitter hatred that she held for templars surge inside her. If it weren’t for them, she might have actually had a normal life. 

“ _Hiding, hunted, hoping. Is this what it’s like for other girls?_ ”

“Is it too much to ask to be treated like a person and not a monster?” Amana sighed. She stood up and dusted off her pants. “I believe in the Maker, and never once have I attacked a templar unless they have attacked first. I am not a blood mage, and I do not use my magic to rule over anyone. Yet somehow, I’m not even a human to them. It isn’t right.” Looking back down at the body, she scowled. “One day, the mages will be free, and no one will ever hurt me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long since I have last updated, but school has definitely kept me busy. That being said, it's spring break (ironically there is snow on the ground). I should be able to write more chapters while I'm off. If I write more than one, would you prefer them to be staggered over a few weeks or posted as they are finished?


	5. Undead and Mud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amana and Cole arrive at Crestwood.

“Amana, you seem cold again. Do you want my hat?” Cole asked, walking closely to his new friend. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, and again she found herself wishing for that ugly plaideweave. 

Amana had not anticipated just how much it would be raining in Crestwood. Being so close to the Storm Coast, she had expected maybe a drizzle, but this was something else entirely. Clouds blocked out the sun, and the rain was icy, cold, and unending. 

“Yes, please,” Amana said gratefully. She felt guilty for taking away what was keeping Cole dry, but he was different from her. He didn’t have her same needs. 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Cole said suddenly. He drew his daggers. “There.” He pointed at a horde of people about a hundred feet away. Amana’s breath caught as she summoned her magic. 

“Undead,” she squeaked. “Why would there be so many?” 

“They want to go home. That’s why they take the bodies,” Cole uttered quickly. “The village is nearby. We need to help.” 

Cole charged ahead, but Amana was frozen in place. Templars and demons were one thing, but undead were far worse. They terrified her. She had only encountered them once before, but it had almost cost her life. She was not eager to come any closer to them. 

“Die!” Cole exclaimed, his voice carrying. “Again!” 

Amana knew that she couldn’t leave Cole to fight all of the undead himself, but she couldn’t bring herself to take another step closer. Taking a deep breath, she hoped that she could will her magic to travel far enough to hit them. 

Having learned from experience that undead are immune to cold, she decided to start with a fireball. She yelled at Cole to move out of the way, to which he replied, “It’s friendly fire!” Amana couldn’t help but giggle at his naivety. She didn’t want to take any risks, so instead she sent small bursts of flame at individual undead. It weakened them, and Cole’s daggers took them down with much more efficiency. However, the smell of burning flesh was even more unpleasant, since they were already dead. Amana used one hand to cover her noise as she continued blasting fire. 

The fight proved to be unchallenging. Cole had no need for healing, and all of the undead had been killed again within minutes. Still, it left Amana unnerved. Would there be more undead in Crestwood? She shuddered at the possibility. 

“You are stronger than you were then,” Cole reassured her as he sheathed his daggers. “You do not need to be afraid.” 

“Maker, I hope you’re right,” Amana mumbled. “Come on, Crestwood village shouldn’t be far off.” 

As they walked on the soggy ground, Amana became embarrassed by how many times her feet got stuck in mud. With each passing day, her opinion of Ferelden became less and less complimentary. It was cold and wet, and it seemed like everywhere they went smelled like unwashed dog. 

Turning to look beside her at Cole, Amana felt another pang of guilt as she saw him wiping water out of his eyes. His long hair was doing nothing to help the situation. He might not need food or sleep, but rain still seemed to affect him. 

She took the hat off of her head and tried to place it back on his head. It wouldn’t have been a problem, except for the fact that he was tall and lanky. Her small size was usually a blessing; it made it easier for her to hide. In this case, however, Amana wishes that she had a little more height to her. 

Cole had simply taken the hat and put it back on her head. “I don’t want you to be cold, Amana,” he said simply. 

“I don’t want you to drown in all of this rain,” she said earnestly. “I’ll be fine. Please, Cole?” 

“Why would I drown?” he asked. Amana sighed. She would have to remember to be more literal with her friend and tell Hawke to dial back on the sarcasm. That would not go well. 

“I’ll wear the hat still.” 

“Maybe, we could get matching hats!” Cole exclaimed excitedly. “Dorian might know where to get hats, or maybe Vivienne, but she doesn’t like me very much.” 

“If we’re being honest, does Vivienne even like anyone?” Amana snorted. “She doesn’t seem the type to make friends.” 

" _A breath-caught smile from the Enchanter as the candle lights. The walls are safe; she will never be hungry again._ "

“There’s always an exception to a rule.” Amana smiled, but curiosity got the better of her. “Why doesn’t she like you, Cole?” 

“She calls me a demon. She thinks that I am here to harm, not help,” Cole whispered hurriedly. “ _I am Cole. I am not a demon._ ” His hands clenched slightly. 

“I know that. You’re my friend,” Amana said gently. “I’ve met so few people who are actually caring and compassionate without some ulterior motive. So few people who actually care. It’s a nice change.” 

“You’re my friend, too,” Cole announced. “I had a friend once, but when he found out what I was, he thought I was a monster and left. You won’t do that, will you?” 

Amana bit her lip and chose her words carefully. “If I leave, it won’t be because of you. I need to stay with Hawke and Anders. They’re my family. You understand, don’t you?” 

“Yes. Rhys left because of me, but you’ll leave because of them. It’s different,” Cole said. “And we will still be friends after you leave?” 

“Absolutely.” 

He smiled. “I’m glad.” 

They walked in silence after that. Amana focused on not falling face first in mud, and Cole focused on making sure that she didn’t fall. They both kept their eyes peeled, in case anymore undead appeared. Hopefully, it had just been a fluke that there were some, and it would not become a regular occurrence. 

Eventually, Amana thought that she saw the outlines of buildings in the rain. She nudged Cole and pointed. “Do you think that’s the village?” 

“Yes.”

She quickened her pace, hoping to arrive there sooner and find either Hawke or a place to dry off. In her haste, she managed to trip over a small rock and plummet straight into a mud puddle. 

“Andraste’s knickerweasels!” she spat vehemently. Her clothes were completely covered in mud, and it had even managed to get into her mouth. That’s when she decided that she absolutely hated Ferelden. 

“When this stupid mess with the Wardens and the demons and the templars and the evil magister is all over with, I swear to the Maker that I am never ever returning to Ferelden. Ever,” Amana ranted. She stood up but didn’t even bother to try wiping the mud off of herself. She was sure that all of the blasted rain would take care of it.  
Meanwhile, Cole stood there examining the poor mage and trying to figure out how to help. He had a feeling that words would not help in this situation and that trying to wipe the mud of would probably only lead to more expletives. Hugs had worked before, but would they work now? He thought he had grasped a great enough hold of her to figure out how to help, but instead, all he felt was self-doubt. 

“Let’s just get to the village,” he said with a sigh of resignation. When she didn’t move, he grabbed her hand firmly and tugged. “The village can’t come to us. We have to go to the village.” 

Amana nodded her head and let Cole lead her through the mud and rain. They were almost there. She was about to be reunited with Hawke. She should be in a better mood, but feeling mud in between her toes and under her nails was enough to dampen her spirits. 

Cole abruptly let go of her hand. “Stay here.”

“What, why?” Amana asked, but he had taken off running ahead. She considered following him, but she figured that he had his reasons. 

He wouldn’t abandon her, right?

Amana had been alone before, but she had never liked it. Too many things could go wrong without there being anyone to help. There had been more than one occasion where Amana found herself trying to heal a life-threatening injury with only the trees as company. 

Like the one time she had encountered undead. Somehow, she had managed to stumble across an old battlefield or something of the like. A plethora of bodies had been left without being properly burned or dismembered. Of course, demons had taken over the majority of the bodies, leaving Amana to fend for herself against a seemingly unending horde. It had only been a few weeks since her sister had left her, and Amana had been sure that she was going to die alone. One of them had gotten a lucky strike to her stomach. 

She traced with her finger where she knew the scar across her stomach was. Her healing skills had been decent at best then, and she was unable to prevent the scarring. She supposed it was just part of her story, but she hated having such an ugly reminder. 

Cole came back a few minutes later. His daggers were drawn, and he looked weary, but there was a small smile on his face. 

“Where did you go?” 

“There were undead outside of the village. Some Grey Wardens were fighting them, but I didn’t want you to have to fight them,” Cole explained. “Did that help the hurt?” 

Amana fought the urge to attack her friend with a hug. She couldn’t believe just how compassionate and considerate Cole was. It made her happy to know that someone else was looking out for her. She settled for a smile instead. 

“Oh, it did!” Cole exclaimed. He looked like an excited puppy. “I was afraid that I couldn’t help you. I helped you!”

Amana laughed. “You would help me more if we could just get to the village and out of the rain.” 

After a few hundred more steps and nearly falling into five different mud puddles, Amana and Cole finally found themselves at their destination. 

“I don’t see any templars or a chantry,” Amana muttered to herself, going through a mental checklist she had devised years ago. “No guards patrolling, no militia.” 

Typically, Amana avoided towns after what had happened with her siblings. She kept to herself and didn’t interact with most people. She ate mostly berries, nugs, and fennecs and drank from streams. If she was truly desperate, she would consider risking a visit to a village, but only if there seemed to be a low or nonexistent population of templars or guardsmen. She would only stay in a town at night and steal only what she absolutely needed. If anyone noticed her theft, she was gone before they could catch her. 

On the other hand, Hawke and Anders provided her with food, water, and clothing. They had better connections and charisma than her that made it easier to secure necessities. There was also more power in numbers; none of them had been afraid to visit a town to trade. If anyone attacked, it was unlikely that they would be able to best the three talented mages. Amana felt safer and more confident when she was with them, while Hawke and Anders enjoyed having a child that they could basically call their own. 

Cole and Amana began to look throughout the village for any sign of Hawke. The Village of Crestwood was small, and there was not a lot of ground to cover. In fact, there seemed to be only houses and one merchant. 

“Not even a tavern or an inn?” Amana scoffed. “Looks like we’ll be stuck in the rain for some time.” 

“Excuse me,” a man said as he approached them. “But the two of you look like seasoned travelers capable of handling yourselves on the road.” He gestured at Cole’s daggers. 

“And?” Amana asked. “Your point is?” 

“My name is Gauld. My friend Judith lives outside of town, but I don’t think that she’s safe. I’d go check on her myself, but it’s too dangerous with the undead and demons everywhere.” 

Amana thought for a moment. “If you can tell us some information, we’ll go look for her.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Have you seen a woman pass through here? Fairly tall, short black hair? Blue eyes?” Amana asked. She doubted that anyone would have seen Hawke if she had been through here, but it was worth a shot. 

“We haven’t had any visitors in a long time. Hasn’t been good for business,” Gauld said. “I haven’t seen her, whoever you’re looking for.” 

“Oh well. Right, then. Where’s your friend supposed to be?” 

Gauld gave directions to Amana and Cole as to where Judith’s house was. It seemed like it was on the outskirts of the region, based on how far away it sounded. Amana really couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go himself. 

“I’m glad we’re helping him,” Cole said as the man walked away. 

“Hopefully, we’ll get lucky, and we’ll find Hawke on the way,” Amana sighed. “Otherwise, we’re screwed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purple!Hawke next chapter! :)
> 
> I can totally relate to Amana's frustration about mud. It's been nonstop rain/snow here. I am about to lose my mind.


End file.
